


Brave New World

by FaeScribe35



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeScribe35/pseuds/FaeScribe35
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is upon the Wizarding world. As relationships develop, the bonds of friendship strain and nightmares truly begin, it is Harry's path to stand strong and face the coming dark. AU after OotP. Slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> History: Will be AU after Order of the Phoenix
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Part I

 

“A warning to the People, the Good and the Evil: This is War.  
To the Solider, the Civilian, the Martyr, the Victim: This is War.  
It’s the moment of Truth & the moment to Lie.  
And the moment to Live & the moment to Die.  
The moment to Fight. The moment to Fight.  
To fight...To fight... To fight!”

\--- 30 Seconds To Mars, This is War

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One

“And what do we have here? The pride of the lions in snake territory?”

Harry James Potter, who had endured a pisser of summer and wasn’t looking forward to the coming year at Hogwarts, merely closed his eyes at the slightly sarcastic remark. He was using these few minutes before the train pulled out of the station to make the transition from the Harry Potter who lived at 4 Privet Drive to Harry Potter, Boy who-who-lived, Gryffindor, youngest seeker in a century, protagonist in the on going battle of good verses evil with Voldemort, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

This year it was more difficult than most.

This year there were no summer visits with his best friends accompanied by great dinners by Mrs. Weasley, no quiet moments with his godfather Sirius. His summer was spent trapped in hell with relatives who both hated and feared him, alternately toiling under the summer sun with endless chores and sweltering in the dank heat of his bedroom locked away from normal people.

He may have been better prepared to handle his relatives had his entire world not shifted beneath his feet days before being shunted off to his private purgatory. After all, he had been the Dursley’s dirty little secret much longer than he had been the so called savior of the Wizarding world. No, losing his godfather due to his own pride and stupidity and having the weight of a prophecy on his shoulders would be enough to fell a grown man.

Locking a sixteen year old young man away with people who despised him and begrudged the very air he breathed with no contact with his friends and no counseling for his grief, then expecting him to come away unscathed was asking the impossible.

Yet Harry Potter had endured. For that’s what he had been all of his life. A survivor. And no prophecy, no madman and not even the death of his dream for a family with Sirius would break him.

For now though, he was tired and hungry and he wanted his quiet moment to collect his thoughts before he was expected to rise to the occasion again. Being questioned by an unknown quantity wasn’t in his plans.

“As far as I know,” he began calmly, opening his eyes to the painful view of students rushing on the platform with their families. Ignoring what would never be apart of his life. “The train to Hogwarts is for all students and there is no assigned seating.”

Harry allowed his gaze to move to his intruder, a flicker of inquiry crinkling his brows as he struggled to place the handsome face.

A Slytherin, no doubt, the comment proof enough of that. From a wealthy family, for though his own wardrobe stated otherwise, Harry recognized the crisp lines of tailored black wool trousers, a well structured jacket and the dark green turtleneck beneath it.

Zabini, the name emerged from the depths of an eleven year old memory of a first year’s sorting. Zabini, Blaise. Slytherin. He was taller than Harry certainly. Though Harry had finally had a bit of a growth spurt this summer, he was no where near Zabini’s 6 feet. Skin the color of Honeyduke’s finest chocolate was well complimented by short cut black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee framing a full mouth. Dark brown eyes held a sharp and assessing intelligence that warned Harry not to underestimate this Slytherin.

“True.”

This one word was spoken with a depth of power and unspoken demand of respect people like Draco Malfoy could only ever aspire to and never quite achieve.

“However, I think we’re both aware of the unspoken rules we as passengers of the Hogwarts Express have placed on the seating compartments. So therefore it is unusual to find Harry Potter without the other two thirds of the famous Gryffindor trio here in a compartment normally reserved for myself and my companions.”

“I’m guessing there was a question in there somewhere?”

Harry managed to contain his surprise when a small smile curved Zabini’s mouth. Even more for the fact that it reached the depths of his rather intense gaze. “You are much more than I thought, Harry Potter,” amusement was clear in the other boy’s voice.

“Thank you. I think.” Harry figured the enigmatic words were a compliment and decided to treat them as such.

“May I join you?”

“Sure,” he agreed with a small lift of his shoulder.

Zabini floated in an antique black leather trunk that gleamed with a high glossy sheen. A quick flick of his wand and it was settled into the overheard compartment without much trouble. Zabini hung the black cloak draped across his arm on a hook, then rested on the seat across from him. That’s when Harry noticed the pet carrier similar to the one Hermione used for Crookshanks. Zabini had only just finished when the train began its departure from the station.

“Do you mind if I allow my familiar her freedom?”

It was a strange way of asking but Harry put it down to another Slytherin quirk. Snape was like that, using a lot of words in a round about way when it was much easier to ask a simple direct question.

“No.” His curiosity was satisfied when a slinky black cat emerged and settled on the seat quite away from Zabini.

“Come, Nefertiti. Must we endure this every year. I know you hate the carrier but that’s no reason to punish me.”

The feline actually seemed to sneer just before its head turned in the opposite direction. Harry covered his mouth before the laughter emerged. “Sorry.” But it hardly sounded sincere when he was snickering. The cat sensing an ally leapt across the seat and curled next to his thigh.

“She doesn’t like her carrier.”

“Obviously,” Harry smiled feeling the unacknowledged tension in the air warm. It was difficult to be nervous around a boy who had the same issues with his cat that Harry often had with his owl. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Nefertiti. It means ‘the beautiful one who has come’. She was a gift from my mother while we were vacationing the summer I was eleven. She’s an Egyptian Mau, specially bred for her solid black coat and her golden eyes. I thought the name fitting.”

“She’s beautiful.” The elegant cat was the perfect match for the Slytherin. Sleek. Intelligent. Just a touch mystery. She certainly was nothing like Hermione’s half-kneazle familiar.

“And she knows this, which is why we always have difficulties when it comes to situations like this. As her human, I should know better than expect her to travel in such a mundane manner.”

A sharp meow was Zabini’s answer, then the cat surprised Harry, butting against his hand. He scratched behind her ear, earning a rumbling purr of approval. Pleased, the cat climbed into his lap, arching into his massaging fingers.

This time the silence was much more companionable, Nefertiti’s purring the only mar. Zabini removed a leather bound book from the pocket of his cloak, opening it and seeming to read. Harry took a chance to observe to Slytherin, probably not as furtive as he hoped. He didn’t know much about Zabini, there weren’t many rumors spread around Hogwarts about him. Other than sharing a few classes and seeing him at meal times, or in the stands during Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch matches, he could probably count on his hands the number of times he actually saw the boy around school.

“They were busy.” Harry broke the moment, going back to Zabini’s original question. Perhaps if they started talking about small things, he might learn something about him. It just didn’t seem right to Harry that they had both attended Hogwarts for six years and he knew next to nothing about Blaise Zabini. Not when a few moments here on the train had proved getting to know him might be worthwhile.

A dark brow lifted in query and Harry quickly explained. “Ron and Hermione. When I went to our usual compartment, they were,” he paused, biting on his lower lip, not wanting to spread their private business about. “Busy.” He finally decided upon. “I could tell they wanted to be alone.”

Alone to finish snogging each other senseless.

Harry wasn’t angry Ron and Hermione hadn’t bothered to tell him they were together. Couldn’t be angry due to the restrictions Dumbledore had placed upon his contact with the Wizarding world. Regardless, he was happy they had finally come together. He might be dense about relationships but his two friends had been glancing sideways at each other long enough that even he recognized the attraction for what it was.

“So Granger and Weasley are finally together.”

Well that proved a lot more people than he thought had figured out how things stood between Hermione and Ron. “Yes.”

“Blaise, I heard the strangest rumblings down in lion territory. It seems the ‘Chosen One’ is missing.”  
The husky drawl came from the girl who had yanked open the door to their compartment. He may not have spoken a word to her, but he recognized the petite beauty of Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin easily. When the guys in his dorm sat around at night talking, especially about girls, she was considered number one on the list of untouchable but extremely hot girls who attended Hogwarts. She was proving warranting of that title today in a black velvet sweater with smoke gray mink lining the collar and a matching black skirt long enough to cover her feet. The ensemble made her already dainty features even more fae, though her face was austere, her manner haughty and those cerulean eyes cold.

A dainty hand reached to slowly, deliberately, flick a loose tendril of hair away from her face. The rest of the honey blonde hair was pulled into a complicated twist on the top of her head.

“We have company, I see.”

“Well, this is certainly interesting.”

Joining her was the other girl who tied the list with Greengrass, Tracey Davis, also of Slytherin, almost her complete opposite in everyway. Where Daphne was flowerlike, Tracey was tall, like the runway models he occasionally glimpsed on the magazines his Aunt Petunia liked to pretend she paid no attention to. Davis was dressed in a hound’s-tooth print traveling suit, with trousers and heeled boots that only enhanced long lithe legs. Her hair was raven black and shorn into short featherlike curls around a patrician oval shaped face with dark insolent eyes lit with mischief that didn’t necessarily fall in his favor.

Davis looped her arm into Greengrass’s hinting at a close friendship. It was a telling gesture he knew was made deliberately, either to lull him into a false sense of comfort or to reveal the depths of their friendship. Either way, as Davis closed the compartment door behind them, he knew the inquisition was truly about to begin.

Both girls settled their things away and sat on the seat next to Zabini, making the collar of his shirt feel as though it was tightening, which was ridiculous considering Dudley’s castoffs were at least three sizes too big.

“So Potter,” Greengrass leaned forward, linking her fingers together neatly on her lap, “What are you doing here?”

He took a moment, purposely, before he answered. After a deep breath, watched the closed expressions on each Slytherin’s face. He wondered if they played these types of games all the time. If so, Harry had to wonder about their sanity. This was exhausting.

“So Slytherin’s are capable of being straightforward? I had wondered if your every action was aimed toward cunning, manipulation and ambition.” The words were said with clear humor so no offense could be taken.

Davis surprised him by bursting into laughter. It was a genuine and free sound. One he never would have suspected her capable of. “Oh, I like him Daph. Can we keep him?”

“Unfortunately no. The rest of his pride will come searching for their leader soon enough,” Blaise answered. “But he has been quite entertaining so far.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

“Now that was positively acerbic. Careful Potter, you can’t have the masses thinking the ‘Chosen One’ has a hidden Slytherin streak, what would they do?”

“What’s with this Chosen One rubbish you keep repeating?”

“Haven’t you read the Daily Prophet? You’ve been a front page staple most of the summer. The Chosen One, the destined Savior of the Wizarding world.”

“I’ve been a little cut off this summer,” he sneered through gritted teeth. It seemed now that the truth of Voldemort’s return was out, the public had returned him to his pedestal. He had to wonder though, how so many people who considered him an attention seeking liar, could turn around and expect him to be their liberator. If the masses were such sheep, it was no wonder Voldemort could sweep through the Wizarding world unchecked. “And I don’t read my own press.”

Daphne inspected him carefully, making him feel as though he were under a microscope. “So you’re not buying into the whole Chosen One phenomenon. It must be nice having so many people practically worshiping you, Potter. Most people would take advantage of that.”

“Most people don’t have an insanely powerful madman trying to kill them either but if you’d like to trade places, I’m sure Rita Skeeter would be happy to make you a front page story. And you can be the Chosen One,” he spit the last out as though it left a foul taste in his mouth. Which it had.

It couldn’t have escaped their notice that he neither confirmed nor denied the savior rumor. The insult also went without comment. If they were loyal Death Eaters, they hid it better than Malfoy who was continually spouting his devotion to his so called Dark Lord.

“Daphne Greengrass, the Girl-Who-Lived,” Tracey paused then shook her head, “Just doesn’t ring true. You’ll have to keep the title unfortunately, Potter.” She smiled then, a soft generous one that said he had passed part one of their questioning. She began to dig into a black saddlebag and pulled free a dark green book and a quill and began writing.

“I swear, the first years look positively infantile this year. The Prefects will have their hands full. The Owlery will be packed with firsties suffering from homesickness.”

“They will manage and by Samhain will wonder why they made such a fuss. What should be interesting as always, will be this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Well I can only hope we aren’t subjected to another year of – Hem, Hem,” Daphne imitated perfectly. “The stupidity of the Ministry will never cease to amaze me. Second year we’re subjected to Dementors and then that odious woman last year.”

“And don’t even get me started on those idiotic educational decrees,” Tracey glanced at Harry, “Why are you looking at us like that?”

“I thought the Slytherin’s rather liked Umbridge, what with her Inquisitorial Squad and all.”

“Umbridge wasn’t as charitable to all the Slytherins as you might believe. Only those families whose influence within the ministry is well known and beneficial to Minister Fudge had her favor,” Tracey explained.

She didn’t have to say Malfoy and his cronies for Harry to know exactly which Slytherins received preferential treatment by Umbridge. Strange, he didn’t know why he thought all of the Slytherin’s fell in line with Malfoy. As a matter of fact, he really didn’t know when he started equating Slytherin’s with Death Eaters.

It was understandable when he was younger and new to the Wizarding world. Those generalizations were made by a boy who could only see the facts that were pointed out to him. There was no excuse for that behavior now. He wasn’t the eleven year old Hagrid rescued from the cupboard under the stairs. He knew enough and had experienced enough to understand that being a Slytherin wasn’t the sole factor of being a dark wizard. Especially with that treacherous bastard Pettigrew as a prime example.

Of course he would be cautious around these three but he shouldn’t automatically assume things about Zabini, Greengrass and Davis either. They had yet to give him reason to believe they were out to deliver him to Voldemort. It was best to reserve judgment.

If he wanted to be treated as an adult, it was time for him to start behaving as one as well.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned, looking down at the cat still curled in his lap that had fallen asleep under his ministrations.

“Whatever for,” Daphne began sharply, “It’s not like we’re not used-“

“Daph,” Blaise cut her off, giving a mild shake of his head before meeting Harry’s gaze again.

“She’s right though,” Harry relented, his stomach clenched with a soft guilt he knew was well deserved. “I’ve made those types of assumptions before. Made sweeping generalizations about Slytherins without getting to know any of you. I hate when people presume things about me based on rumors or things they’ve read in the Daily Prophet or in some book. Turns out I’m just as bad when it comes to the people of your house.”

“Guess that means you’re human just like the rest of us,” Daphne smiled for the first time and it made an already pretty face stunning with its intensity. “After all, I never would have expected Harry Potter, prime example of everything Gryffindor, would deign a trio of Slytherins with the time of day.”

He couldn’t help but grimace at that. Did he truly come off so self-righteous? His reputation in the snake house wouldn’t be the best, especially with so many of them children of Death Eaters who wanted him dead, but how many of the other students of Hogwarts felt the same.

“Now you have him worried,” Tracey nudged her seatmate lightly.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“No but your face speaks very clearly, Potter,” Tracey explained.

“Where have I heard that before.”

“It’s not a bad quality,” Zabini reassured him. “We can’t all be cunning and ambitious. The Wizarding world needs people like you Harry. Needs people like us all.”

“It certainly makes life more interesting,” Davis grinned.

“Now that we’ve decided we’re all wonderful. A specific question was asked and my curiosity has been piqued. While it has been interesting dispelling a few of the more prominent rumors about you, Potter, but I have to wonder why you’re not with your Gryffindors this trip?” Greengrass definitely wasn’t letting his presence there in so called Slytherin territory be glossed over.

“Harry,” he began, “I think if we’re dispelling untruths, we can use first names.”

“Harry, then.” Tracey agreed. “I’m Tracey, this is Daphne and of course you’ve already met Blaise.”

There was a definite hierarchy with these three. Hopefully the dynamics would become clearer with time because Harry found himself quite interested.

“I was just telling Blaise,” he paused and looked at the boy in question who merely inclined his head. “Ron and Hermione were a bit occupied, so I decided to give them some privacy.”

“So Granger and Weasley are finally together.” Daphne sighed heavily. “Damn, and here I thought they would wait until seventh year before getting a clue. How many galleons was that Zabini?”

“One hundred. Don’t worry; I can wait until Hogsmeade weekend to collect.”

“You wagered on when my best friends would get together?” Incredulity filled Harry’s voice. Not only that but one hundred galleons were nothing to sneeze at.

“They will lay bets on everything, from who receives the first detention from Professor Snape-“

“You’ve made me quite a bit of currency on that one, Harry. I should probably thank you,” Daphne interrupted with a grin.

“To who wins the Quidditch cup at the end of the year,” Tracey finished as though Daphne hadn’t interrupted.

“When you were banned last season, Harry I was worried,” Blaise leaned back and fit his fingers together, “However, the Gryffindors managed to win the cup after all. I enjoyed my brief visit to Tuscany this past week and I must thank you Daphne. Your parents’ villa is quite beautiful.”

“But why?” His confusion was obvious.

“Its fun,” Daphne gestured with a slender hand. She fished into her own black saddle bag and retrieved a velvet black pouch. She let it drop into Blaise’s lap, before chuckling indulgently.

“It’s simple harmless fun. And it certainly breaks the monotony of the school year, Harry.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

“Harry!”

The Gryffindor in question was standing in front of the carriages that took the students to the castle from the train. He waited for the person who had shouted his name to catch up. Riding with the three Slytherin while interesting was mentally exhausting. It was also strangely enough, the most fun he’d had in weeks. After a quick farewell, he had left the train to find his friends. Now he was a bit out of sorts and seeing the thestrals had brought on a vivid flashback.

The Veil and the echoes of voices. Sirius. Bellatrix’s laughter. Falling. Falling.

The still grieving part of him wanted to lash out but the quiet death horse nudged against his hand and the livid fury gradually faded away. It wasn’t this animal’s fault he lost his godfather. Truly the only ones culpable were Bellatrix for firing the curse at Sirius and Voldemort for conspiring to get him to the Department of Mysteries in the first place.

Everyone played their roles in Voldemort’s little drama. He, the angry frustrated hero racing to save his loved one from certain death and of course Dumbledore, the gentle all knowing mentor doing his best to protect the headstrong hero. With each of them, making a royal mess of things.

Still his fury remained and though he had a better grasp on it, always it bubbled beneath the surface waiting to be unleashed. Preferably on the scaly bastard who continued to strip his life of any measure of happiness he tried to grasp.

Harry had learned a great deal last year and not merely about the prophecy that bound him. He learned that everyone was fallible. Sirius, the man who wanted to be a loving godfather but who had fallen through the veil because his mind was ravaged by the horrors of Azkaban and trapped in between the past and the present. Snape, a noted potions master and professor, who held on to childhood grudges and hatred like they were old friends and companions. Dumbledore who probably hadn’t heard the phrase about the road to hell being paved with good intentions, good intentions that had made his life horrible whether the man realized it or not.

They all made mistakes. None were perfect and the best way for him to come out of this war alive would be to open his eyes to this fact and stop waiting for someone to lead him. Save him. Because there was no rescuer, they were all too busy waiting for him to be their savior. In the end, it would be him and Voldemort and if he wanted to remain the survivor he had been all of his life, he had to find a better way of doing so than he had for the past 5 years.

Arms flew around his neck with a slender body slamming forcefully against him, dragging Harry from his somewhat morbid thoughts. He knew before he had a mouthful of brown slightly frizzy curls it was the first of his best friends.

“Harry! We’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been? Are you alright? Why didn’t you sit with the rest of us?”

They really couldn’t have looked all that hard, was his first dark thought then he shoved it aside. Hermione meant well, and she was he his best friend. The summer had been quite favorable to her, if the soft tan and the gleam of happiness in her eyes were any indication. “’Mione, calm down. I was on the train obviously or I wouldn’t be standing here. I’m fine.”

“That still doesn’t answer the other question you know,” her stern faced expression brooking no argument.

“Well, when I first got on the train, I actually did go searching for you and Ron but I figured since you both were doing a great job snogging each other senseless, I’d give you a bit of privacy.”

“Harry!” she looked positively outraged and it brought on a much needed laugh. “Well, I, we didn’t-”

“That good, yeah?” he interrupted with a smirk worthy of Malfoy.

“Stop it.” She slapped his arm. “No need to tease.”

“Ouch, that hurt.” He grabbed the spot that really did sting a bit but not as much as he pretended. “Is that how you finally got Ron’s attention by beating him into submission?”

She tried to look affronted but the short snort of laughter spoiled the affect. “He can be rather thick at times, can’t he?” This time her smile was a slightly forced and tinged with guilt. “Harry, I’m sorry you had to find out that way. We wanted to write but Professor Dumbledore insisted.”

“Dumbledore’s Restrictions. I’ve not received a spot of mail all summer. Not to mention being forced to stay at the relatives for the entire time. So you couldn’t write to tell me about you and Ron. I’m not angry.” At her pointed glare he shrugged. “Okay, I was angry, still am a bit, but I understood why you didn’t write.”

“It just unfair, you being stuck there and unable to-“

“It doesn’t matter though does it? It’s unfair. It’s always unfair. But at least it’s over now. Best thing to do is to get over and move on.”

“But Harry, it had to be difficult this summer, especially with Sirius.”

“I dealt with it. Only thing I could do wasn’t it?” This time bitterness spilled over into his voice and she seemed to get the message. At least for the time being. If he knew Hermione, she would probably make it a personal crusade to make sure he dealt with his issues with Sirius’ death and talked himself blue in the face.

Great his personal life had just become equal with freeing house elves.

Hopefully she would be too busy with school and Ron to poke to hard at things he’d prefer left alone.

“Harry! Mate, where have you been?”

Ron was finally pulling up the rear of the students with Ginny, Neville and Luna beside him. He wondered if they had another rehash of events from the Department of Mysteries. He was definitely glad to have missed that. “Hey guys. It’s good to see you.”

“So where were you?” The look on Ginny’s face was a mixture of concern and pity and was mirrored on all of their faces. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with those expressions for the entire year.

“Found myself in Snake territory actually.”

He mimicked his previous companions’ words unconsciously. A small smirk touched his mouth as the expected reactions came forth. Ron with his ‘Slimy Slytherins rant, Hermione berating Ron. Ginny looked like she was ready to explode while Neville struggled between wanting to play peacemaker and staying out of Ginny’s range of implosion. Luna was looking her normal spacey self, though a smile lingered on her lips telling him she wasn’t quite as tuned out as she pretended to be.

“Why would you sit with those Death Eaters, Harry and not with your best mates?”

“I actually wasn’t paying much attention to where I was until the door opened and Zabini posed the exact same question. Though without the Death Eater part. I could have just as easily ended up with the Hufflepuffs now couldn’t I?”

“But when you did, why not just leave?” Ginny looked almost as frustrated as Ron.

“Why is it such a big deal?” Sure they were Slytherins and the two houses had a pretty big rivalry going. Then there were the Death Eater parents…okay, so perhaps Ron and Ginny had a reason to react so badly. “Look, I’m here, I’m in one piece. It was no harm done.”

“No harm done? They could have-“

“What Ron? Could have kidnapped me from the moving train and taken me to Voldemort? Now the Slytherins are all carrying around portkeys on the off chance of performing their sacred duty to their Dark Lord?”

“I wouldn’t it past them.” The redhead grumbled refusing to let the issue go.

“Look, I sat with Zabini, Greengrass and Davis.” Though each had given permission to use their first names, the last thing he wanted to exacerbate things by doing so in front of Ron. “They were okay. No pureblood rhetoric, no insults and no ‘The Dark Lord will make you suffer’ nonsense. They were nothing like Malfoy and his brainless goons. So just let it go.”

“But Harry-“

“I can’t fight everyone in the Wizarding world Ron!” he shouted angrily, fed up with the protests. Being protective was one thing, running the issue into the ground was another thing entirely. “I was careful and vigilant and that’s all I can ever be.”

“They could be trying to lull you into a false sense of security, pretending to be friendly, before betraying you.” Ginny added which only seemed to encourage Ron even more.

“And Voldemort could be hiding in the Chamber of Secrets waiting for me to go to bed tonight before he comes to kill me.”

“That’s not funny Harry,” Ginny murmured uncomfortably.

“Shouldn’t joke like that mate,” Ron mumbled and folded his hands across his chest.

Well sometimes you had to be cruel to make a point. “We rode the train to school. That’s all. There is no nefarious plot. Now can we please get in the carriage before we’re late for the opening feast?” It wasn’t a suggestion and it was the final word he would say on the subject. Being cross examined about his traveling companions was no longer on the program for the evening.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FSFSFS

 

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The first time he heard his mother, Zora, referred to as a ‘black widow’, he was seven years old. At the time, he didn’t understand what the group of women meant but he could read body language. The four women had gathered beneath his favorite climbing tree to gossip, as was the custom at his grandparents’ garden parties. He watched the way each leaned in closer, like most did when telling a secret, then a fan would flip open covering the speakers face as she relayed information. A moment later, the tittering laughter, with its tone so cold and vicious, and he knew ‘black widow’ was something callous and malicious.

By the time Blaise Zabini was ten, he understood quite well what those hateful women were whispering about.

Yet he knew better. Those women couldn’t comprehend the resilience of Zora Zabini.

They didn’t know that at seventeen she had been best friends with Penelope Taunton, who one day would become Penelope Parkinson. Nor did they know Damien Parkinson had wanted to marry Zora, had even approached her parents to begin negotiations. Zora knew her best friend had her heart set on obtaining a betrothal contract with the Parkinson family. Penelope’s crush on Damien was famous in the Slytherin girls’ dorms and no one dared go against the venomous girl’s wishes.

It was a friendship that would come to a bitter end. After witnessing a brief moment between Zora and Damien, Penelope had run off enraged. What Penelope hadn’t known, was Zora had been gently pushing Damien toward Penelope’s attentions. The man had agreed to halt his pursuit of Zora and give Penelope a chance but Zora knew he didn’t truly believe anything would come of a relationship with the woman. Headstrong and accustomed to getting his way, Damien was merely biding his time until Zora came along to his way of thinking. As far as Zora was concerned however, the matter was settled and her best friend would get her dream.

In the manner of all scorned women with a small amount of power and knowledge, Penelope rushed home to her father’s library with revenge on her mind. In a fit of spiteful rage, she cast a spell, the darkest of curses, upon her once best friend. Whomever Zora dared to love would be fated to die the most painful death.

Little did Penelope know, this curse would be unbreakable and after discovering Zora’s true intentions would try to apologize and reverse it. Unfortunately Zora was destined to have this curse follow her until the day she died. It was simply Zora’s misfortune the men she married were kind and she could not help but eventually love them no matter how hard she tried otherwise.

Blaise had once asked his mother, if she knew what would happen to her husbands, why she continued to doom these men. In the beginning, most were marriages her parents had arranged, others needed the fortune her disastrous relationships had garnered. His mother could only reply that she hoped he never knew the depths of loneliness and pain Penelope had cursed her to endure.

This foundation was the core of his reluctance to form relationships with his peers. His first year at Hogwarts was by far the worst. He stood in the shadows watching the other first years forming bonds he never wanted. Malfoy and his goons were the center faction, children of inner circle Death Eater parents who were destined and eager to become Death Eaters themselves, though they had no idea what that life choice would entail. Nott and his group, also children of Death Eaters, were the underlings of Malfoy because their parents didn’t carry the influence of the Malfoy name. Everyone else was usually from neutral families, like the Zabinis, and were left to stay out of the way as best they could. Or remain in the shadows the way he did.

It wasn’t until third year when all of that changed for him. He hadn’t expected Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass to extend a hand of friendship in his direction but three years later he was contented they had. The two girls had insinuated themselves into his life so utterly he finally understood what it must be like to have siblings.

They became his best friends and considered him the same. They studied together and laughed together. They were his confidants, and he held their secrets as well. When he had discovered that perhaps he was attracted to both men and women, both were completely supportive and vowed to remain by his side no matter what relationship he chose to have. They were also the first to volunteer to help with the issue of an heir should the problem arise.

Most important, they did magic together. As their friendship grew, so did the resonance of their magic. It was Daphne who suggested they celebrate the Sabbats together. Tracey assembled their Grimoire.

He was the one who suggested they form their own Coven.

Tracey was in charge of recruitment. She was considered the friendly half-blood Slytherin the other houses could relate to. A powerful witch in her own right, Tracey’s gift was her ability to sense magic. She knew if a witch or wizard’s power would complement their own.

Daphne was charged with the initial questions to discover if the initiate was compatible in other ways. Blood purity wasn’t important but they found muggle-borns almost violently opposed to the old ways. Dark magic, they were fond of proclaiming. It was difficult for them to overcome years of being unconsciously programmed to think performing a ritual skyclad under a full moon had nothing to do with Dark magic.

Despite this, four others had joined their small circle and no one at Hogwarts was any the wiser. Even with the interference of the Ministry the year before, their coven had come together and performed magic and celebrated the Sabbats with Umbridge none the wiser. Potter’s little group was greatly appreciated to have taken the pressure of discovery off them. Then, Umbridge had been directly targeting Potter, so she wouldn’t have noticed their Coven anyway.

Potter, Blaise mused silently. Harry, as he and the girls had been invited to call him. The Gryffindor was an enigma. Harry’s power was unmistakable. It was almost like a living entity that wrapped protectively around the teen and warned others off who dared threaten aggression in his direction. Blaise had to wonder how Malfoy tolerated his little yearly jaunts to the Gryffindor compartments each year with Harry’s magic warning off threats so strongly. It was a testament to Malfoy’s stupidity, not power, for Blaise knew exactly what Malfoy’s magic was capable of and it was no where near the levels Harry’s reached.

There were moments in their discussion when some of Harry’s responses had been downright Slytherin in character. Definitely a surprise for one so firmly entrenched in the lion house. Blaise thought he was mistaken when Tracey had signaled a recruitment query for Harry by passing him the 1st years guide, for there was no way Harry would even consider it. When Daphne agreed, he had been even more stunned.

“You’re both mad,” he shook his head resolutely as their thestral drawn carriage made it’s way toward the castle. “There is no way Harry Potter would be interested in our Coven, or the old ways. There is no way anyone from the Light side would allow him to even congregate with us on a long-term basis. Dumbledore is fond of pretending to be inclusive of our house but in ways he’s even more bigoted than the students.”

“You’re probably right,” Tracey shrugged off his concerns so lightly he had to wonder if she knew something he didn’t. “Then again, if the rumors I heard this summer are correct, Harry Potter has been through life altering experiences.”

“You’ve been gossiping?” Daphne looked just as shocked as he. Tracey abhorred gossip in all forms. To hear she actually was performing the act?

“Of course not,” she sneered. “You know what my idiotic parents have been up to this summer.”

The Davis family might be neutral but most people would find when the Dark Lord made commands and threatened family members, they would be hard pressed not to give in. As the Davis family made their fortune in the gathering and distribution of rare potions ingredients, and the articles about the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry, it wasn’t a leap to wonder when the Dark Lord would be sending representatives to her family.

“So what did you overhear,” he asked, knowing Tracey had no qualms about eavesdropping on her parents for information.

“Sirius Black is dead.”

Blaise felt a wave of sympathy swell for the Gryffindor. Malfoy had mouthed off in the common room the beginning of fifth year about Black not being a Death Eater and how the Ministry were idiots for thinking it, or so his father had claimed. Sometimes you had to take what Malfoy said at face value and decide for yourself if there was any truth to it. But if Malfoy knew, it was guaranteed that Harry knew that not only was Black innocent but that he was his godfather as well. And now Black was dead.

“Do you know how?” He murmured.

“No. I was surprised I heard that much. I know my father was charged with obtaining some pretty rare potions ingredients because he packed and left the house the very same day taking three of our house elves with him. And he hasn’t returned yet.”

“That would certainly explain why Harry looked like death warmed over.” Daphne wrapped an arm around Tracey’s shoulder offering silent support as she knew her best friend was worried but would never admit it.

“Not really. From what I’ve observed, he looks like that every fall he returns to school.”

“And just how often have you been looking, Lord Zabini,” Tracey teased playful. “Harry is quite attractive, though he thoroughly hides it beneath those awful clothes and those hideous glasses.”

There was something about Harry that drew attention. When he first arrived at Hogwarts, he had been rather small and unremarkable visually speaking but on the train, this sixteen year old Harry Potter had matured beautifully despite the ‘awful clothes and hideous glasses.’ The clothes couldn’t conceal the quiet strength in his body, more than hinted at in the shoulders and thighs while sitting. Nor could the glasses hide what was naturally a striking face. He had a generous mouth, an aquiline nose with eyes so vibrant a green not even the glass could mar their intensity. Pain had carved mercilessly into his face, giving the already good looks a compelling command.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like to flaunt he has the inheritance from his family, especially being friends with the Weasley clan.” Daphne reasoned out. “You saw how Ronald Weasley behaved fourth year when he thought Harry entered the Tri-Wizard tournament.”

“I thought that was the end of their friendship, frankly. It was definitely a betrayal on Weasley’s part.” Blaise had a very strict line on fidelity, especially after everything his mother had endured. Despite Malfoy’s actions, most of Slytherin knew Potter hadn’t voluntarily entered the tournament. His first reaction had been much too telling to be a falsehood. Weasley’s jealousy was an ugly thing to witness. “Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t be willing to place my trust so absolutely in Weasley after that.”

“I think that’s what makes Harry, well Harry.” Tracey smiled softly. “Whether he knows it or not he upholds the traditions of his family very well.”

 

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By the time the nights festivities was over, including the sorting of the first years, with four new Gryffindors sitting at the end of the table, Ron making a bit of a pig of himself at the feast and Hermione lecturing on table manners, and Dumbledore giving his usual speech, Harry was more than ready to call it a night.

While unpacking, he listened to his other roommates joke around . Seamus making fun of Ron finally getting a clue was a good laugh for them all. Neville and his newest herbology acquisition was flowering menacingly over in a corner next to his bed. It was just like every other year.

Normal, he was tempted to say.

Except he felt separated in a way he hadn’t before. The others just seemed so, young, he realized sadly. They had their entire lives ahead of them. Sure war loomed ahead for the Wizarding world and they would probably be affected by it but right now the only things they had to worry about was class, teachers, homework and perhaps the next girl they would try to hit up.

It was enough to make him depressed if he thought on it long enough. Normalcy had never been apart of his life, not even back at the Dursleys. It probably never would at this point.

“Hey Harry, how did you get your school things if you were stuck with those relatives of yours all summer. I can’t believe Dumbledore let you go to Diagon alley and not the Burrow.”

“Remus picked them up for me. He dropped off my OWL results, waited while I selected my courses and brought my books over on his guard shift.” Those had been the more unpleasant hours of his summer. Part of Harry was expecting Remus to be angry with him for getting Sirius killed he hadn’t anticipated the guilt and wariness. He could have handled the man’s anger better.

Harry settled the last of his books on the small bookcase next to his bed. Remus’ presence hadn’t gone over well with the Dursleys, but they couldn’t complain as it meant that Harry would be leaving their house again for another ten months. Instead, his Uncle Vernon had added more chores to his endless list and confined him to his room when he wasn’t working. A typical summer in Harry’s opinion. Not that he could go further than the front yard in the first place, Dumbledore had made sure of that with his guards and demands he remain indoors as much as possible. He didn’t want to necessarily be around his relatives either so his bedroom had become both sanctuary and prison.

“Well night, Harry.” Ron spoke around a yawn before climbing into bed. All around them, everyone had either closed their bed curtains or gone to sleep. Ron opted for the later as he pulled the heavy comforter around him leaving only a tuff of red hair exposed. It would be a matter of minutes before he was asleep.

Harry set his rucksack beside his bed for class in the morning frowning at the book tucked neatly in the side pocket. “Good night,” he mumbled absently, before grasping the book and pulling it free. A flick of his wand shut the curtains around his bed for privacy, then a quick Lumos brought forth a small light so he could see as he climbed under his own blankets.

He was reminded of Riddle’s diary from second year but shook the thought off. The likely hood of a situation like that happening again was very slim. In fact, the book looked familiar. The dark green cover felt like dragon hide under his fingertips as he ran a hand across it, then opened it to the first page looking for a title or maybe a name for who had misplaced their book.

An Introduction to the Wizarding World

For the Curious Half-Blood

He wasn’t expecting that and wondered who could have possibly thought he would be interested in reading it. Then was brought up short by the feminine script on the next page.

_Harry Potter,_

_This is a book I developed after Daphne had taken me under her tutelage to introduce me to the traditions and customs of Wizarding world that are not readily available to students here at Hogwarts. It is customarily given to Slytherin first years like ourselves who need a little guidance._

_Why have I given it to you then, you have probably asked. Perhaps you are curious. Perhaps not. Inside you’ll find the answers to a great many questions you may have come upon during your time here at Hogwarts. Or you’ll simply toss it aside and think upon it no more. The choice is yours, of course._

_I believe there is enough Slytherin in you to find use for it._

_For quick reference, merely tap your wand to the contents page and state the subject of your query. For example, Autumn Equinox. However, it is best to start as you mean to go._

_Perhaps we’ll speak more this year, Harry Potter. Our conversation on the train was quite interesting indeed. Blaise and Daphne concur._

_The library, Wednesdays at 8pm are a nice place to study, wouldn’t you say? The three of us, along with a few other 6th year students you are probably already acquainted with often gather there and we would value another intelligent wizard’s contribution._

_You’re welcome to join us._

_Tracey Davis_

_~Slytherin_


	3. Chapter 3

"We didn't get a chance to ask about your OWL results, Harry." Hermione paused in lifting a goblet of juice at breakfast the next morning. "How did you do?"

"Pretty good, I guess. E's in Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions, O in DADA, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms. I got an A in Astronomy, though and I didn't really care about Divination and History of Magic all things considered," he answered before eating another forkful of eggs. Not as many O's as he might have liked but his grades were well enough to take the required NEWT classes to become an Auror.

Snape would give him a hard time this year for having to give Harry special permission for entrance to NEWT level potions but it was the price to pay and he wasn't going to allow that foul mouthed git to hold him back. The bastard might not know the entire contents of the prophecy but even a fool could figure out it would all come down to Harry and Voldemort in the end. Even Snape couldn't deny it was important for him to receive that training for the War.

If he lasted that long, Harry though morosely. If Voldemort had his way, Harry wouldn't live to see his eighteenth birthday let alone long enough to begin Auror training.

"'Mione scored perfect OWLS across the board of course," Ron announced over a mouthful of food. It was a testament to six years of friendship that Harry understood a word he said.

"Ron, swallow," Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. "Did you manage your NEWT potions?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore arranged things with Snape."

"Poor bastard." But Ron's voice wasn't all that sympathetic. In fact, he sounded downright amused. "I fortunately don't have to suffer through another year of that greasy bastard's put downs."

"And you won't be eligible for Auror training either," Hermione pointed out.

"Then I'll just have to scratch up something else!" Ron snapped back.

"Perhaps if you had studied harder during the year you would have managed more than an A on your potions OWL!"

"Not everyone lives and breathes books-"

"So what other classes are you taking 'Mione," Harry interrupted before a real argument started. Ron and Hermione might be dating but their arguments seemed to be as much apart of their relationship as the snogging.

"Oh the usual, though I dropped Care. It conflicted with Arithmancy and I'd much prefer that class anyway. I can always study on my own and take the NEWT later if I really need it."

"So you didn't pick any of the new ones?"

"New? No, I have a full course load as it is. Besides, those new classes weren't NEWT level. I did pick up the Apparition class in the spring. Are you taking something new?"

He had sat on the side of his bed with interested amazement when he read through his Hogwarts letter because he hadn't known there were other courses offered. Many of them looked interesting, like Wizarding law, just in case the Ministry decided to go after him again, and the Spell Crafting where he imagined designing the perfect hex to both get rid of Voldemort and make the bastard suffer all at the same time. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had posted a side note to his letter, saying he wanted Harry to keep much of his schedule clear for private instruction.

"Just the basic healing course along with Apparition in the spring. I thought it might come in handy, you know, with the war and all." He had put his foot down on that one regardless of what Dumbledore wanted. "What about you Ron?"

"I managed Charms, Transfiguration, DADA and Care of Magical with E's. Got A's in Astronomy, Potions and Divination," he finished the last in a near mutter and shoved another large spoonful of porridge in his mouth trying to cover his words.

"You actually passed Divination?" Harry couldn't believe it. For most of the work, they had made up stuff for Trelawney.

"Sight runs in my mum's side of the family," Ron shrugged it off, "Said she always thought I had a touch of it and I probably would have done better in the class if I actually did the work."

"I think that goes for all of your classes," Hermione added quietly earning a glare from her boyfriend.

"Wow." Harry didn't know what to say about that. Ron had never even mentioned that about the Weasleys, only that he thought Divination would be an easy class. "Guess you might have an all seeing eye after all Hun?"

He only had to twist a shoulder to avoid the bit of scone that Ron threw at him. Their giggles were quickly stifled when they saw Professor McGonagall heading in their direction.

"Good morning, Professor."

The Head of Gryffindor had been steadily making her way down the aisle passing out class schedules and here she was finally, giving the three of them looks of pained tolerance. Unless the average observer looked closer and saw affection mixed in her gaze. Professor McGonagall might be Hogwarts strictest Deputy Headmistress, but she did love her lions.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. I gather from your rather enthusiastic behavior that you'll be prepared for class this morning." It was less a question and more a statement of fact.

"Yes, Ma'am." He accepted the offered schedule as she moved on to Hermione and Ron.

"Well what do you have?"

"Oh," he startled at Ron's voice. "Right, well, let's see. I have Herbology first thing and Potions later this morning."

"That means we're only in a few classes together. " Hermione didn't look happy at the prospect either.

"That's what happens when you have so many classes at NEWT level." Ron pointed out and as it stood, the three would only be in DADA, Charms, and Transfigurations together. He still had Potions with Hermione and Care of Magical Creatures with Ron but it still wasn't the same.

"At least the DADA Instructor looked promising." Hermione was cautiously optimistic given Professor Dumbledore's introduction last night. While the man appeared to be terribly average in both looks, with his dark brown hair and eyes and unremarkable robes, he had to be better than Umbridge. As a retired Auror, who was reputed to have fought in the first war, he could at least claim experience if nothing else.

"He's not another Lockheart, that's for certain." Ron who had been on the other end of the wand for Lockheart's attempted memory charm still held a grudge all these years later.

"And he's using proper books this year, not the rubbish Umbridge had us wasting our time with." That was probably the woman's worst offense in Hermione's opinion. At least in the previous years she had books to replace the awful class instruction. Last term, Hermione had been forced to loot Hogwarts library for knowledge.

"I'm not getting my hopes up too high. Not until after class this afternoon anyway. We could have another Mad Eye on our hands." Another of Ron's grudges, the spider demonstration back in fourth year.

"Wait, my Astronomy class is missing." Harry frowned down at his slip of paper. He had several blocks of time open with only a Private stamp and a class room number as indication of where he should go for class and with no indication of Professor.

Class Times Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday

8:00am Herbology Charms Herbology Charms Basic Healing

(Sprout) (Flitwick) (Pomfrey)

9:00am Priv. Rm7b Priv. Rm7b Herbology Charms Basic Healing

(2nd Flr)

10:00am Potions Transfiguration Potions Transfiguration Potions

(Snape) (McGonagall)

11:00am Potions Transfiguration Potions Priv. Rm7b Potions

12:00pm Lunch

1:00pm DADA Care Mag. Crea DADA Care Mag. Crea DADA

(Sloan) (Hagrid)

2:00pm DADA Priv. RM7b DADA Priv Rm7b DADA

3:00pm Priv TBA 

4:00pm Priv TBA 

 

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As it turned out, he was in Herbology with Neville who made the perfect partner. Easy going, intelligent and practically a genius in the subject, Neville helped to make Herbology interesting because it was a subject he loved and he wanted to share that enjoyment with Harry. The NEWT level class was mixed with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, so the atmosphere was relaxing and the optimal place to learn. They made plans to study and work on any future projects in the library together on Monday evenings after dinner. It would be an even trade off, Herbology for DADA. Harry knew they both would do well this year.

He had no idea what his next class would be, only knew he needed to rush back inside the castle to the second floor classrooms to find 7b. He would have asked Professor McGonagall this morning at breakfast if she had any idea what the cryptic instructions on his schedule meant but he hadn't wanted to draw his friends attention to the reason why they would no longer share classes the way they had in the years before.

The room was situated in a somewhat abandoned part of the castle. Causing him to receive more than a few bewildered glances wondering why he was moving in the opposite direction as everyone else.

"Come in Harry, we've been waiting for you." He heard the familiar voice call out just as he placed a hand on the door.

Inside, the space was at least three times larger than a normal class and virtually empty but for a long table and chairs set before a wall long blackboard. The stained glass windows were dusty from disuse but the morning sun still shone determinedly through illuminating the room enough to prove the house elves had at least started cleaning.

"Good Morning, Harry."

"Good Morning, Professor Dumbledore."

The two exchanged greetings after Harry had crossed the length of the area. Other than a few Owls during the summer, Harry hadn't spoken to the Headmaster since the life altering time in his office where Harry had almost destroyed everything.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the elder wizard now. The first time he saw Dumbledore at his sorting; the man seemed a kind, grandfatherly figure and as the years passed most of that image withstood the tests of time. Dumbledore had always seemed to care for him, was usually there when Harry needed him and willing to dispense small slices of wisdom even if he did seem to be a tad barmy.

Harry didn't know when that trust began to falter.

Maybe it was third year, when Dumbledore sent two kids off to rescue his godfather rather than helping.

Or perhaps it started when Harry was forced to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament which ultimately led to Voldemort's resurrection.

If not those years, then definitely the recent one, where Dumbledore all but ignored and abandoned him, forced him into that uncomfortable fiasco of Occlumency training with Snape and withheld knowledge about a prophecy pertaining to him that he was entitled to know.

Either way, the sheen was tarnished and the grandfatherly visage all but faded away. Did he still respect Dumbledore? Certainly. He couldn't have born witness to the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort and not respected the man's power and intelligence. Trust that Dumbledore wanted Voldemort vanquished? Yes. To consider Harry's best interests over the rest of the Wizarding world?

No, and that answer made something harsh and jaded pang in his heart.

Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix were charged with destroying Voldemort and stopping his Death Eaters. Not with saving Harry Potter. There was a very big difference between the two.

As usual, he would have to survive on his own.

"Please have a seat." The graying wizard gestured to an empty chair, "And how are you doing today Harry?" The twinkle in those blue eyes was dimmed, as he had obviously acknowledged the relationship between the two of them had changed as well.

"As well as can be expected, sir. And yourself?"

If he was surprised by the question, Dumbledore didn't show it. Instead a small smile touched his lips as he answered, "I suppose the same could be said for myself as well. I feel I must apologize for insisting you remain with your relatives this summer, Harry. I'm sure you would have preferred spending the last weeks of your break with the Weasleys at the Burrow."

That went without saying. "I understood, sir." Understanding and agreement were not the same.

"I'm sure you did. If things had been different-"

"But they're not, sir." Harry interrupted, not wanting to hear excuses.

He spent the summer trapped in a room barely larger than the cupboard under the stairs where he had spent most of his childhood. He was fed inadequate meals through a cat flap on the door. Given ridiculously long lists of chores he was required to finish before the sun went down and verbally abused whenever one of the Dursleys had the inclination, which meant anytime they were within two feet of him. Alone and grieving.

He really didn't want to hear excuses.

"That's just the way it is." He nodded once, to take the sting off his cold words. There was no sense in laying blame. The one thing he had learned this summer was there were more important things and whining like a child over circumstances that he could not change would not keep him alive.

"You're right, of course." Harry might hate to see the stricken expression on the Headmaster's face but he had to focus on the bigger picture. "I'm sure you've been wondering about the class blocks on your schedule that were marked Private."

"You mentioned something in your letter this summer about private instruction; I thought this is what you meant. Though, I did select NEWT level Astronomy and it wasn't blocked in."

"Yes, and while pursuing a NEWT in Astronomy is a very worthy ambition, I believe it will be beneficial for you to take advantage of other avenues of learning, as the War shall soon begin in earnest."

Harry frowned, glancing at the two others listening to their conversation, wondering if Dumbledore should be speaking so freely. Noticing the direction of his thoughts, a soft chuckle emerged from the wizened man. "This brings us to why you're here. I'd like to introduce you to two of our newest Order members Harry. I'm sure you're at least familiar with Professor Septima Vector?"

He did recognize her from sitting at the head table during the opening feast. Up close, she was very beautiful. Long hair, dark as a raven's wing hung in a riot of curls over slender shoulders. She had vivid blue eyes that were smudged with smoky grey shadow and gleamed with wit and intellect.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she greeted him with a quick grin that seemed very friendly.

"Professor." He nodded in return, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but focused on the image of witch before him. Beneath teaching robes, she wore a simple but very form fitting violet velvet dress. She was covered from neck to floor and still managed to remind him of some mythical siren. If he thought she was beautiful before, that paled in comparison once her entire focus was on him.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, but Professor Vector instructs Arithmancy here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore explained.

"Oh, that's Hermione's favorite class."

"And Ms. Granger is very proficient. One of my more curious students."

"Yes, Ms. Granger is a most formidable witch," Dumbledore agreed. "However, what you may not be aware of, Harry is Septima's dual mastery in both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"How does this relate to me, sir. I didn't take Ancient Runes or Arithmacy as electives."

"And it will be my responsibility to remedy that, Mr. Potter," Professor Vector assured him. "I'm not sure if you're aware of it, but there is a great deal more to magic than what is instructed here at Hogwarts. After attaining NEWT certification, most wizards and witches, pursue careers, whether they be in the Ministry or another field. Very few remain in the world of academia, and even less attain Mastery of various disciplines of magic we have available."

"But how does that help me. I can't attain Mastery in a subject I know nothing about."

"Of course not child," she chuckled lightly, it was husky and warm, not mocking at all. "I'm sure you remember Professor Snape's opening lecture from your first year about foolish wand waving." She smiled once again at his expression. "Everyone knows Professor Snape's views on Potions. Most of us feel the same pride regarding our chosen fields. However there is a level of truth to his words. Magic isn't all about wands, Harry and you'll need to learn that if you wish to defeat you-know-who."

"But shouldn't I have started back in third year?"

"Ideally, yes. I would have guided you toward Arithmacy and Ancient Runes when you were selecting your electives, but I am biased about my subjects." As much as he loved Hagrid, Harry wished this Professor had been there to guide him as well. "You're instruction will simply be more intense and faster paced. What I can teach you are various things that may or may not help you in your pursuit. Teach you how to manipulate magic in ways many have forgotten."

"How?"

"That is what you'll be discovering during your scheduled times with the Professor, Harry," Dumbledore drew the focus back to him just as their discussion was getting interesting. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, I'd also like to introduce you to Mr. Leopold Shacklebolt."

The name sounded familiar. "Is he-"

"Yes, Harry, he would be the younger brother of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom I'm sure you remember."

The two men's features were similar enough that Harry could see the relation. In fact, this Leopold looked a lot like what the Auror must have looked like when he was younger. Including the bald head and the neatly trimmed goatee.

It wasn't usual to find wizards in muggle clothing and even then the items were mixed matched, in awful colors or inappropriate. Shacklebolt looked very comfortable in dark baggy denims and a black v-neck sweater beneath a great looking dark brown leather bomber jacket.

"How do you do, Mr. Shacklebolt?"

"Please," he grinned displaying a set of dimples and then held out a hand to shake. "Mr. Shacklebolt is my father. You can call me Leo."

"Then, I'm Harry." He accepted the gesture with a smile in return.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, will be instructing you in both dueling and defensive fighting." Dumbledore explained.

It made sense for an outside source to come in, Harry reasoned. Most of the Professors were busy with classes or missions for the Order. Any Aurors would be out working or also on missions as well. And the last thing Dumbledore wanted was to draw the Ministry's attention once more to Hogwarts.

"It will be my responsibility to get you into shape for this war Harry." Leo nodded once, serious for the moment. "We'll be working not just on dueling, though it will occupy a large portion of our time together."

"What do you mean, into shape?" He was in pretty decent shape, wasn't he. He played Quidditch. It wasn't like he was fat like Dudley.

"I'm going to be honest with you Harry." Leo gave him a very intense look that made Harry nervous. "I have two jobs, one in the muggle world and in the magical world. Both are very similar. At the moment, I'm on temporary leave from Interpol." At Harry's sharp gasp, he nodded, "Good, I see you're familiar with the organization. I also work within the Ministry of Magic within the Department of Mysteries."

"You're an Unspeakable?"

"Yes, I am. My point being, during the course of my career, there are times when I can't use Magic. Whether due to the threat of exposure to muggles or I'm simply unable. You have to be able to defend yourself Harry and to think and get yourself out of dangerous situations. Professor Dumbledore has told me a lot about you and your friends, Ron and Hermione right?"

"Yeah. I can always depend on them."

"Well, there are going to be times when you can't. For one reason or another. War isn't pretty Harry. People die. And our goal is to prevent as much loss of life that we can and defeat you-know-who and his Death Eaters once and for all. Where you are right now, it's not going to happen. But hopefully, with my help, I can get you there. If you're willing to work with me, that is. Honest hard work Harry. No short cuts."

Harry looked at Professor Dumbledore and in that moment probably could have forgiven him for most of the wrongs Harry had faced in his life for finding him this one straight forward speaking man who was willing to help him and wasn't promising miracles or trying to shield him from reality.

"I'm willing."


	4. Chapter 4

It was just after eight when the last of their study group entered the library. Rather than their usual table, Daphne chose one in the back near the stacks by the rear wall for more privacy but could still be seen by anyone crossing the threshold.

There wasn't much to review, as classes had only started on Monday but there was more to this meeting than homework. It was a welcome for their Coven, to greet each other as they began the year at Hogwarts anew.

Blaise knew Tracey was anxious to discover if Harry would come tonight but he just didn't believe the Gryffindor was ready yet. In fact, Blaise wasn't sure if Harry would accept at all. Not that Harry held any harsh feelings toward them, he had proven open-minded on the train. There were just so many obstacles in Harry's life, not the least his friends and house associations, which would hinder his association even with the so called outcast Slytherins. It might be best to write him off as an impossibility.

"I'm sure he'll come soon." Daphne tried to comfort her friend with a gentle hug. She pressed a light kiss to her cheek, when Tracey sighed despondently. "Besides, its only the beginning of the year. I'm sure Granger and Weasley haven't let him out of their sight."

This proved that Daphne was thinking along the same lines. Given Tracey's disappointment, she probably was as well, she just didn't like it.

"They act as if Harry isn't allowed to have associations other than their little circle." Tracey mumbled, as she began setting her books so she could start on her assignments.

"They're protective," Daphne corrected. "And with good cause, don't you think?"

"If you say so," the brunette reluctantly agreed, though they both could tell she wanted to argue.

Daphne's words were proven by Granger's actions in Potions that morning. Given Harry's past relations with Professor Snape and the other sixth year Slytherins Blaise could understand her suspicion. Yet there were times during the double period, her behavior was almost ridiculous. If Harry had any hope of not merely passing the class but learning, he needed to partner with someone other than his best friend. Rather than allow him to work, Granger practically took over the brewing. This left Harry to either play errand boy, prepare ingredients, to her perfect specifications of course, or be regulated to observer.

Harry probably thought Granger was doing him a favor but it was only setting Harry up for Professor Snape's future wrath, when he couldn't perform without his fellow Gryffindors assistance.

Given the small group of students who actually achieved an Outstanding on their Potion's Owl, the class was generally mixes of the houses, leaning heavily toward Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Snape wasted no time informing everyone how Harry was allowed special entrance to class. As there were only four Slytherins class, including him and Daphne, the Professor was wasting his time trying to draw the students' ire toward Harry.

Most Hufflepuffs couldn't wait to get out of Potions as they couldn't tolerate Professor Snape's callousness. The few who remained, were friends with Harry and merely ignored the remarks. The Ravenclaws wouldn't care, as they would only see Harry's admittance as a diligent pursuit of knowledge, a trait Ravenclaws wholeheartedly supported. It also helped they were friends with Harry as well. As Granger was the only other Gryffindor, the Professor's performance while outstanding in its veracity was pointless.

"Granger was in rare form today. I'm stunned she has time for a relationship with Weasley given how much devotion she shows her studies. And mothering Harry."

It wasn't that Daphne didn't like Harry's friend. It was more of a dislike of how she tried to thrust her knowledge down everyone else's throat. It was very off putting. They all knew how smart Granger was, it just seemed subtlety was a lost art to her.

"She wasn't so bad Daph," Tracey admonished lightly. The three of them also shared Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with the girl.

"sometimes she speaks to Harry as though he's an ignorant child and because Professor Snape has ridiculed him in class so much and allows Malfoy to sabotage Harry's work, he simply lets her talk to him that way as if she's done him some grand favor.

"They're friends. I'm sure we simply don't understand the dynamics of their friendship. Look at the way we relate to one another, perhaps they're saying the same about us. I don't think Harry allows her to speak that way, but merely understands it is just apart of her character and accepts her for it."

"And if she were to attempt speaking to you that way?" Daphne asked, lips pursed as if daring her friend to speak anything less than the truth.

"Well I'd have you to put her back into her place, now wouldn't I," Tracey teased, pressing her own kiss to Daphne's cheek.

"You're talking about Harry aren't you?" They glanced up at the question, noting the final member of their circle had arrived. Susan Bones had been was the last person they expected to agree to joining their coven but she was surprisingly adept at the old ways.

Then, there were a great many things the Hufflepuff concealed from the rest of Hogwarts. Though she had graduated from pigtails, she still wore her long wavy auburn tresses in a neat ponytail often found laying across her shoulder. As they had all changed out of their school uniforms for the evening, she was subtly displaying her curvy figure in a simple dark blue jersey dress.

"I can always tell when people are talking about Harry and his friends by the sound of frustration in their voice." Susan grinned, before taking a seat.

"What do you mean by that?" This question was posed by fellow Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan, who was also a member and one of the first Tracey had recruited. MacMillan was slightly arrogant but he had genuine ability and his family upheld the old traditions faithfully.

"What she means is that Hermione and Ron have declared ownership of Harry and anyone who wants to get close to him, must have their permission," Ravenclaw Padma Patil answered. Her twin Pavarti, was a Gryffindor and was even escorted to the Yule Ball by Harry, while she had attended with Ron. Everyone knew what a disaster that evening was. "Yes, I guess they're protecting him, because Hogwarts students are fickle and have been cruel to Harry. It's just a shame we probably won't get the opportunity to really get to know him, he seems so nice."

"He is," Susan agreed, "And shy, though he's very powerful."

Daphne glanced at Blaise who gestured for her to begin. "It will be a shame to lose the Potter family."

"What do you mean by that?" Tracey demanded.

"What she means," Terry Boot, the final member of their Coven and Ravenclaw as well, "Is that Harry is a Weasley all but in name. I'm not saying anything against the Weasley family, I'm sure they're good people and it's fine Harry feels like he can be apart of their family but it's a shame the Wizarding world will lose the Potter heritage."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they're not setting up a marriage contract between him and Ginny," Susan snickered softly. "She certainly adores Harry and wouldn't argue against it."

"Harry has no idea the Wizarding world even honors marriage contracts," Padma rolled her eyes. "He's incredibly naïve still when it comes to the heritage he was born to. What upsets me, is that he doesn't even attempt to learn."

"A bit difficult, when you have a Dark Lord in the shadows waiting to kill you," Blaise spoke up finally, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. While he might agree with some of the things being said, it wasn't their place to judge Harry, his friends, or his choices.

"I agree," Tracey nodded, they all knew how she felt about gossiping and their discussion was deteriorating in that direction. "So we wait to see if he accepts our invitation and that's all we can do."

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Thursday afternoon as he made his way to the second floor classroom where it had been decided both of his private lessons would be held, Harry was feeling apprehensive of what the next three hours would hold. For this first week, Professor Vector, or Septima as she had invited him to call her while they were working, had allowed Leo to claim most of the blocked time as she was still preparing her lesson plan for him and dealing with her classes. They would meet on Friday for the first time, where she promised she had a very stimulating start in plan for him.

Meanwhile, Leo had suggested a three day evaluation so he would be able to gauge where Harry's talents lay and what deficiencies to correct . Today they would sit down and discuss a training plan. It wasn't that Harry was afraid of hard work but he knew he was a more tactile learner. He was never one for books like Hermione, being much better at hands on instruction. Leo seemed like a really smart guy and the last thing he wanted was to waste his instructor's time struggling through books and concepts that would probably evade him.

As he entered the classroom, he noted the house elves progress in cleaning. Where before was years of dust and grime, hardwood floors gleamed. There was a new door at the rear of the room, signaling either a closet or office had been added. The ceilings strangely enough were higher and as the door closed behind him, the room became utterly quiet indicating the liberal use of silencing charms. Wouldn't want curiosity seekers peeking inside to see what was going on, Harry reasoned.

"Hey Harry." The same masculine voice he had listened to call out various hexes and jinxes at him in a threatening growl, greeted him with a smile. Though still in muggle clothing, Leo was extremely casual today in dark denims, white trainers and a black long sleeved t-shirt. He sat behind the table that was covered with several different packages, books and parchment. "How were classes today?"

"Pretty good. Can't decide if I like the way the double Charms and Transfigurations have been divided but I guess I'll get used to it." The single hour lessons were for theory and test days when applicable. Double hour classes were for practical and working on projects later on during the year. "At least Defense is together, though I don't think I would have minded Potions that way."

"And your defense teacher? Heard he was a retired Auror, is he any good?"

"Better than Umbridge at least," Harry admitted still not ready to give Professor Sloan an approval just yet. "Then again, anyone would be better than her, so that's not really saying much."

"I asked Kingsley how he rated as an Auror the other night. He didn't have anything bad to say." Leo shrugged, "I guess this would be a case of no news being good news. " After a moment, he gestured to the chair opposite him. "Why don't you have a seat and we can get started."

The knot of tension he carried around in his stomach most of the day tightened as he slid carefully into the chair and folded his hands in his lap. He took several quick breaths before looking up at the Unspeakable waiting for the verdict. Only to start as Leo started chuckling.

"It's not the end of the world Harry," he smiled through the amusement in his voice. "You haven't done anything wrong. In fact, I'd say the results of the past three days are very promising."

"Really?" He was almost afraid to hope but hearing those words did take the edge off of his fears.

"Yes, really. I was a little surprised actually. Considering what I had heard of the DADA instructors here the last few years, I wasn't expecting your spell work or your dueling prowess to be as advanced as it is. I read the report on your excursion through the Department of Mysteries and you'll be pleased to know it left a great deal of information out. I'm certain that was Dumbledore's handiwork."

Considering how many Death Eater informants were in the Ministry, Dumbledore keeping information a secret was no surprise. "That sounds like him."

"However well you performed there, I don't want you to forget the surrounding circumstances of that night. Those Death Eaters were there in secret, hoping to avoid exposure to the Ministry. Meaning, they held back Harry."

The words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. He had been feeling proud of the way he and his friends had held their own against those Death Eaters that he hadn't even considered that piece of information.

"It doesn't mean that you didn't perform well, it just means that Death Eaters are vicious and not to be underestimated. It would be remiss of me to allow you to believe that is the extent of their magic. They were feared for a reason. Death Eaters have an arsenal of Dark Arts spell work that is cruel and malicious and the thing of nightmares."

"You're right. That is what I needed to hear. I know they like killing, most of the time without provocation. I saw them at the Quidditch World Cup and I saw the way Wormtail just slaughtered Cedric on Voldemort's orders." He swallowed heavily, as the memories pressed in on him. Cedric's blank gaze, forever sightless and he didn't stand a chance. "The way Bellatrix murdered Sirius," he finished in a shaky whisper. The tears he had sworn he was finished shedding, blurred his vision for a second before he dragged in a deep breath and shoved his grief back down. "When I'm faced with them again, they won't be trying to get a prophecy from me. It will be capture for Voldemort or to kill me."

"It doesn't seem quite fair does it?"

Harry looked up from his fingers that were pale and twisting nervously. "No it doesn't."

"Would you like to know the reason why I agreed to work with you Harry?" The only reaction he could give to the question was a shrug. He thought Leo was here on Dumbledore's orders. "Yes, I was asked to help you but I could have said no, I had that option."

"Then why?"

"Kingsley's told me a lot about you over the past few years. How you faced down Voldemort at eleven, Basilisks, trolls, and dementors and competed in and won the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Sneaking a group of teenagers into the Department of Mysteries only to face off against Death Eaters. He told me how he had never met a kid with more sheer balls than Harry Potter."

The profanity startled a snort of laughter from Harry before he covered his face and dissolved in hilarity. He had been expecting, well frankly Harry didn't know what he had been expecting but definitely not that. Leo waited until he caught his breath, watching with a mild grin before speaking again.

"My mother is very fond of saying that we're never given more than we're capable of handling. That the Powers that Be know if the burdens we are faced with will crush us or if we are able to stand and be strong against them. I'm proud my job is to help you stand strong."

Leo hadn't said how Harry was supposed to be the chosen one, or how he was the savior. Merely, stated his belief that he could stand against Voldemort. Harry nodded once in acknowledgement and thanks. "So how do we start?"

"We start with training you both physically and mentally. As I was saying, you're a very good dualist. However, time is not on your side when you're fighting." Leo stopped, frowning down at the parchment he had picked up from the table. "We need to work on your endurance. To do that, you need to put on some weight."

Now he understood Leo's hesitation. He knew he had lost at least ten pounds over the summer break and they were ten pounds his already slim frame could ill afford. Typically any weight he lost while back at the Dursley's would be back on by winter break. He just hated that someone was faced with the abuse he lived with at his relatives.

"I can do that," he answered in a voice that pleaded silently for those questions on Leo's mind to remain unasked.

"Alright," Leo agreed slowly, and for that Harry was extremely grateful. "We'll start slowly. As we'll only have two hours each afternoon to work together, some things will be up to you. We'll occasionally work on weekends but mostly those days are your responsibility. I'm not going to hold your hand through workouts, this is your training and you will be held accountable for your actions."

"Such as?" Because he was starting to get a little worried.

"You'll start the day with a morning run. Fifteen minutes to begin with until you're in better shape. Then you'll finish up with two sets of sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups, 50/20/5 which will increase weekly and some stretching to loosen up your muscles so you won't cramp up. Those I'll show you a bit later."

"you want me to do that before classes?" The look of horror on his face amused Leo as he started laughing again.

"I always get in a morning run at about 6am before work Harry. You'll get used to it."

"Six?"

"I hate it too and I've been doing it for twelve years."

Harry looked at Leo's physique which was nothing to laugh at if the muscles filling out that black t-shirt was any indication and decided maybe a morning run wouldn't outright kill him. Maybe.

"Fine," he dragged the word out, kissing his mornings of sleeping in good bye.

"Next is your meal plan."

"Meal Plan!"

"Before breakfast, you'll take these nutritional supplemental potions, provided by your Madam Pomfrey." Leo pushed a small metal box over to him. Harry slipped open the lid, noting the slim tubes with a grimace. He could almost feel the green thick slop going down and knew it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. "You'll pick up a new supply for the week after your healing class on Fridays. I should warn you, Madam Poppy has wanted to give you these for years now and was happy to be of assistance and will probably be checking to make sure you're not skipping any."

"I'm not that bad," he pouted, ignoring Leo's gruff denial that had words that sounded like 'strong wind' mixed in.

"For breakfast, you'll have at least a small bowl of porridge and a piece of fruit. Whatever else you'd like is up to you. I don't know what wizards have against milk but I'm certain the house elves won't have a problem getting you a glass. Lunch must include a piece of fruit of some type, and two vegetables. Milk there too. Dinner you can have a glass of that vile pumpkin juice but you'll have two vegetables there as well and only a small portion of desert."

"That's an awful lot of food," he really wasn't used to paying much attention to his diet, typically filling his plate with whatever he felt like consuming at the time.

"You'll be burning a lot of calories each day. And using a lot of magic. You'll need the vitamins and minerals you'll get to help you put on not only weight but a bit more muscle as well."

"I didn't know wizards knew about vitamins."

"I spend a great deal of time in the Muggle world due to my position with Interpol, Harry. I like to believe I have the best of both worlds." He pushed two other boxes in Harry's direction. "This brings us to our next portion of the program. Training."

Frowning, Harry opened the smallest box first, a grin lighting up his face as he pulled out the wand holster. "I always wanted one of these after seeing Moody's."

"Can't practice constant vigilance if your wand is in your pocket. I could have hexed you six different ways by the time you got it out. Wear it. At all times, no excuses. You are to never be without your wand Harry, no matter the circumstances. We are at a stage in the war where anything can happen and you can't protect yourself if you aren't armed."

The holster was light and warm against his arm from the charms he could feel placed on the dark red dragon hide. A quick flick of his wrist and his wand was settled safely in the palm of his hand. "Thank you."

"No problem," Leo nudged him toward the other box. Harry frowned down into the open container, not understanding, then looked up in denial. "No arguing. You can't learn effectively, if you can't move comfortably."

Nestled inside the white tissue paper were two pairs of trainers, one a pristine white, the other dark blue with white and red trimming. Beneath those were seven pairs of fleece pants each with either a matching hooded pullover or trucker sweat tops, in shades of navy, dark grey or green and black, a dozen each of short and long sleeved t-shirts in multiple colors and thick white socks.

"I can't accept this."

"You can and you will." The calm words brooked no argument. "It's no different than buying books or supplies for your other classes. You simply didn't have the means to purchase these and I did." Leo shook his head, "And don't even think of insulting me by saying you'll pay me back. I did this because I wanted to. Believe me, you'll need this and more by the time I'm finished. Just say thank you and let it be done."

He could never understand why Ron wouldn't accept gifts from him and here he was doing the same thing with Leo. 'Bit of a hypocrite, now Harry?' a mocking voice in his head queried and that decided things for him.

"Thank you."

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For the next two days, Harry thought getting up at six in the morning might not be so bad. Mostly because by the time he went to bed the night before he was so exhausted he slept all the way through the night. The running wasn't so bad, though he might never be able to express his gratitude for the new trainers. Running in Dudley's old shoes would have been worse than running barefoot. He made it through the sit-ups easily, the push-ups were more of a challenge. The chin-ups were very nearly a waltz through hell. And he thought he was in shape. The bar he found to perform the exercises mocked him each time he approached it.

No, he was getting plenty of sleep. The bar truly was mocking him, in a sarcastic voice that sounded very much like a nasal Frenchman. Or it was possibly the portrait across from him. He was usually too tired to tell the difference.

Leo had explained most of his plans for the first month, lots of exercises concentrating on agility and strength conditioning. They would work their way through some boxing, kick boxing and what Leo called good old fashioned street brawling. He looked very gleeful then and Harry had to manfully restrain a tremble of fear. Eventually they would work on knife fighting but only when Leo was satisfied Harry could handle himself in a fight without getting hurt.

The Unspeakable had also promised to instruct him on how to care for and operate a handgun. When Harry pointed out that most magic could shield against bullets, Leo had quietly countered with the fact that a silver bullet would do to a raging werewolf what magic couldn't. It was hard to dispute that argument.

At the moment he was in the Gryffindor common room trying to study for his other classes, though Leo's latest assignment wasn't far from his mind and it was due the next day. Even with classes more challenging, things were much like years that had passed. Each Professor had lectured the first day about the difficulties 6th and 7th year students faced in NEWT level courses. All stressed the importance of time management and diligent study for the impending NEWT exam in 7th year. Then each and every one proceeded to hand out an insane amount of homework usually consisting of reading many chapters of text, intense practice of spell work and several feet of essays to assure comprehension.

Had he been tasked with this much work even last year, he probably would have been complaining like Ron. Constantly. Incessantly. Annoyingly. He had to wonder how Hermione put up with the two of them for so long.

It wasn't that he suddenly discovered a love for academia, far from it. Given a choice, he would prefer to be doing anything else. He basically understood now that if he didn't learn and incorporate the knowledge his Professors were trying to impart, he would die.

That made his choices quite simple.

Ron of course had given him several strange looks when Hermione suggested they study or work on homework and he didn't express the same aversion Ron did.

"Harry, I thought you said you had a Potions paper to finish, that isn't our book for class."

"It isn't, it's for my independent study course," he muttered before he realized what he was saying.

"Independent study? We weren't offered a course like that!" Hermione sounded offended and interested all at the same time. He hadn't told them about his private training, partly because Dumbledore suggested he keep the particulars to himself but mostly to avoid this conversation. He didn't want Hermione or Ron to feel like they were being excluded and anytime someone tried to withhold knowledge from Hermione she became extremely upset.

"It's for the war, Hermione." He clarified, trying to keep the arguing at a minimum.

"That's all the more reason why we should be included, don't you think? We're going to be there at your side fighting, V-Vol-Voldemort, we could use the extra training."

"You'd have to speak to Dumbledore about it then." He put the blame off on the Headmaster, let him deal with it.

"Maybe we could start the DA again, Harry, and you could show us, you know like last year." Ron's idea wasn't a bad one but he didn't know if he would have time.

"Yes! I don't believe Professor Dumbledore would mind if we started the DA again."

"We'll have to wait and see Hermione. I mean Professor Sloan isn't a bad instructor and classes just started. We should give it a few weeks and let everyone settle in before making a decision."

"Fine," she sighed, "As long as you keep it in mind." She set her work aside, focusing on him fully now. "So what are you working on?"

"I need thirteen spells by tomorrow. Seven offensive and six defensive. Spells that I would make apart of my general arsenal, you know that I use regularly."

Leo claimed these would be his 'bread and butter' spells. Spells he would be able to use so well and accurately that the effect on his magic would become negligible. They would train those thirteen spells until he could do them silently as well.

"So what do you have so far?" Ron asked getting interested.

"For offensive, expelliarmus, stupefy and reducto. I was thinking of adding incendio, diffindo and confringo." They were both silent looking at him funny. "What's wrong with those?"

"They're very powerful," Hermione spoke up, "For spells that you want use regularly. Especially Reducto and Confringo. Are you certain you want those?"

He hasn't considered those two overly powerful, but seeing their expressions he didn't want to tell them that either. "Well I thought about expulso and depulso," he paused at Ron's widening eyes. "I guess I'll see what Leo says."

"Leo?" Ron asked in a choked voice.

"My Professor, he said I could call him by his first name. It's not a big deal. Anyway," he shrugged, "For my defensive spells, definitely my Patronus. Maybe Confundo, Protego absolutely, impedimenta, langlock and I can't decide between petrificus totalus and serpensortia."

"Why would you want a snake conjuring spell as a defensive spell?

"Ron," Hermione murmured. "Harry is a parselmouth, remember."

"Leo says I should take advantage of all of my strengths. Even the ones I may not necessarily like."

"Maybe you should keep that one as a surprise," Ron suggested. "You know, since, you-know-who is a parselmouth and how everyone reacted in second year."

He didn't like it but Ron was probably right. "What about locomotor mortis instead then?"

"What's the hurry, you have plenty of time to make a decision."

"I just want to get this settled, Leo expects me to have a plan ready for class tomorrow."

"What's happened to you Harry. Two days straight you've been acting like 'Mione with all of this studying. Are you sick or something?"

This wasn't the first time he'd heard this complaint, or something near it anyway. And it always offended Hermione. He would think Ron would get the message by now that insulting his girlfriend wasn't exactly the proper thing to do.

"Perhaps, Ron, if you took your own studies more seriously like Harry, then you would be rushing about at the last minute trying to finish the last foot of essay before class begins."

"Look guys," he tried to hold off the forth coming argument but as usual he found resistance was futile.

"Just because I have a life other than reading, doesn't mean I don't take my work seriously."

"Oh really? I'm sure you just have so many activities on your busy schedule. Chess, exploding snap and let's not forget the ever popular, eating."

"don't forget quidditch," Ron pointed out, missing the thick layer of sarcasm permeating Hermione's words.

"yes because we all know flying around on brooms is more important than your future."

Their arguments typically deteriorated from here, with Ron growing more insulting with every word and Hermione's feelings getting hurt before she finally got fed up and stormed away fighting off tears and fury. This year, his best friends seemed to realize all that pent up frustration could be released in an entirely different manner.

"I do so thin about the future. Suppose you'll always be after me to something one way or another," Ron smiled sheepishly before turning to his girlfriend.

It had to be love for Hermione to fall for that load of manure. Sure enough, the tension in her face softened to a shy smile. "Oh Ronald."

And, "Five, four, three two-" Harry muttered, more than a little put out as their study session became something else. A snogging one. He didn't begrudge the two a relationship but that didn't mean he wanted front row seats and vivid images to go along with it.

"I'm heading up guys." Neither of them were paying any attention, closing the distance between each other. Rolling his eyes he gathered his things. At the base stairs, he gave them one last look, grimacing at the path Ron's hand was traveling. "Oh, Merlin, my eyes," he snorted and jogged up.

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Seeing as he had finished the potions essay due the next day, Harry packed his things away for the night. He had the spells he wanted and Leo would probably approve of most of them or offer better suggestions. It was difficult staying on task, focusing so intently on his work and he was forced to acknowledge how much time he had wasted during his previous years at Hogwarts.

After a long hot shower and dressing for bed, he went to slip his glasses off and place them on the night stand but halted at the green book stuffed into his bookcase.

He wasn't hiding it from his friends. Not exactly. He just hadn't decided what he want to do about it yet. Ron's reaction was easy to predict. Ron would demand he burn it immediately. He wouldn't even try to understand why Harry held on to it for so long in the first place.

Hermione would be more cautious on the principle of it being a book and her respect for those would initially overcome any instinctive repulsion. The fact that it was very similar to Voldemort's diary from second year was the first strike against it. Coming from a Slytherin was also not in it's favor. After careful consideration, Hermione would insist he turn it over to Professor McGonagall so she could assure it's safety.

Harry might have agreed at once with both opinions but he had a feeling this book wasn't meant to be shared or passed around with anyone but the intended. Granted last year his instincts hadn't done him any favors but he had been working in the dark with several elements against him.

The ministry was out to get him, Snape was rifling violently through his memories, Dumbledore was avoiding him and withholding valuable information and Voldemort had taken up residence in his mind. It was a wonder he was still sane.

All were blows to not only his confidence but to the instinctive belief in himself that he tried to keep throughout the hellish years with the Dursleys.

Everything had changed and he was slowly piecing himself back together. His initial distrust of anything Slytherin was no longer there.

Also, his curiosity was aroused. Hermione would say that trait would be his downfall one day. In the past his inquisitiveness had brought him no favors. Perhaps he should be wary and get rid of the book but he couldn't help himself, just like Davis had said.

He wanted to read it.

Ron grew up in a pureblood family. Not a typical one but much about the Wizarding world Ron took for granted everyone knew anyway. If there was something to know, Hermione had already read three books about it already. That's how determined she was to fit into the place where some thought a muggle-born had no place.

He just went along, waiting either for Ron or Hermione to tell him what he needed to know, without taking the initiative to explore the Wizarding world on his own. And that pretty much decided for him. He was tired of being spoon fed information on a need to know basis, usually with him being the last to need to know. It was time for research of his own. He didn't have to take the class if he wanted to learn more about Wizarding law or spell casting. Hogwarts had a full library waiting for him to take advantage of its contents. This little book, causing him so much inner turmoil, whether good or bad, was a fine place to start.

He quickly flipped open to the first chapter and grunted, feeling let down after such a building climax. "Etiquette for the Proper Witch and Wizard."

"Bloody hell, just how different can that be," he groaned but settled down to read anyway.

By the end of the chapter he was not so apathetic.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry didn't know exactly what awakened him exactly that Thursday morning the second week of school. One moment he was in a peaceful sleep and the next he found his eyes drifting open. The room was strangely silent for once, the absence of Ron's snoring and occasional sleep talk was probably what disturbed his sleep. Despite the blurry view, he could tell it was nearing time to wake for his run. He must have forgotten to close his curtain because he could see the darkness gradually making way for daybreak.

Forgot to close his curtain…

"Shite," he scrambled up from the blankets tangled around him looking for the book he had fallen asleep reading. "Where is it?" He patted down his bed furiously, feeling his breath catch when the lump beneath was finally discovered.

"Bloody hell." He was pants at keeping secrets from his best friends and keeping this book from his friends was becoming more difficult by the day. It was different when he hadn't read it but now he found himself entranced by the damned thing.

_Maybe that was the trick, he could hear a voice that sounded like Ron's say, to keep him preoccupied so that when danger struck he'd be unmindful._

After reading the first chapter on Etiquette, he moved on to Traditions and History then Rituals and Spells which he had just finished looking through last night. What he really appreciated were the references inside, so that when he was dragged to the library for homework by Hermione, he could sneak off to the stacks and quickly search out the book referenced and check it out from the library. Hermione and Ron were usually so focused on each other they never even realized what he was doing. Part of him was upset, and then the part that wasn't ready for them to know what he was doing would tell the insulted one to be grateful they were distracted.

Monday morning after he read the chapter on Etiquette, he went down to breakfast without his friends. He wanted to observe the houses as the students came in to eat and see how much of the book was accurate and how much was simply a 'Slytherin thing'. It had earned him several sideways glances from Hermione for uncharacteristic behavior but she remained silent for the time being.

The emergence of the Slytherin house was a mere ten minutes after he had sat down. Not just the 6th years like he might have believed but the entire house lead by the 7th year Prefects. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was quite a sight to behold. Each student filed in to wait behind their chair. He immediately noticed they were all neatly groomed, ties straight, sweaters buttoned, pants neatly pressed. It was something he thought solely related to Malfoy, had even joked about it with Ron, but it wasn't just Malfoy. Even the 1st years were tidy and ready for class.

The sight made him fidget self-consciously, having never taken such care with his own appearance. After years of wearing Dudley's slovenly rejects, he was used to just taking his clothes out and putting them on regardless to how they looked. It wasn't just him, however, none of the 6th year Gryffindor boys made a big deal about their clothes. Except Neville, he realized with a frown. Quiet Neville that no one had really paid much attention to until last year during DA meetings or when he was blowing up his caldron during potions class.

After a brief nod by the male 7th year prefect, they were seated and he began reciting the same blessing Harry had read in the night before.

_Thank you for the light of a new day begun_

_I now partake of the Divine and share with my kin_

_May it lead to health, strength and love_

_In these gifts we partake_

_As I will it_

_So mote it be_

The food appeared moments after he was finished and the atmosphere around the table relaxed as everyone began eating and talking.

Gradually over the next hour, the other houses filed in beginning with Ravenclaws then Hufflepuffs and usually in groups. Most were neatly groomed as well but only a few paused before eating signaling perhaps they were performing the same blessing. When Luna arrived she gave him a quick smile before sitting. Her lips moved slowly enough for him to know she was reciting the same words as the Slytherins earlier but that she also knew he was watching. It had stopped surprising him how Luna just seemed to know what he was thinking. He just shrugged and accepted.

Gryffindors began rushing in halfway through the meal, some harried as though they had just awakened. Many were not as neatly groomed as they could be and very few looked as though they were saying any type of blessing. He did notice Neville had, quietly and discretely, before beginning to eat. It was such a pointed difference and he didn't know how that made him feel exactly. Not that he was envious of Slytherin's almost militant like behavior, though he found he could respect it. It just seemed like his house was missing out on something but he couldn't understand what exactly. The fact that Neville felt he had to do so in secret didn't sit well with Harry at all.

_"Meow."_

Harry frowned at the throaty purr that interrupted his reminiscing. "When did Crookshanks," he muttered grabbing his glasses from the nightstand so he could look for Hermione's cat that occasionally made his way into their room. Usually to antagonize Ron.

Instead curled up at the foot of his bed, looking for all the world as though she belonged there was Blaise Zabini's familiar. "Nefertiti?"

The cat made a sound that was accompanied by an expression that clearly said, _'Well it's about time you noticed I was sitting here. Peasant.'_

"How on earth did you get in here from the dungeons?"

Nefertiti only rolled her eyes and padded forward on the blanket and into his lap. A soft meow and head butt to his fingers indicated she was ready for another rub.

"You're quite demanding for a cat." A small pink tongue swiped quickly across his thumb and he chuckled softly, looking around to be sure his talking hadn't roused anyone. How would he explain Blaise familiar sitting on his bed waiting for him. Ron would be spouting Slytherin conspiracies before he was even fully awake. "Yes your majesty, I'm rubbing, I'm rubbing."

Maybe all magical felines had the ability to sneak about undetected. He did want to know how she made it pass the fat lady without notice. "You had to have spent the entire night up here. Blaise is probably looking for you."

Nefertiti's presence reminded him of the small experiment he had decided to conduct this morning. He glanced over at the front of the dark stained oak armoire where he had hung his uniform the night before. Neville had done the same when no one was watching and Harry figured that's how the house elves knew which uniforms to press for the next morning. The practice was the same in Slytherin, he just didn't know if it were the same in Gryffindor. Sure enough the pants and shirt were clean and neatly pressed, sweater and tie clean and wrinkle free. Hermione would kill him if she thought he was giving the house elves extra work.

"So are you staying with me this morning or must you get back to Blaise?"

Nefertiti actually looked like she was considering his question before giving his hand another nuzzle and jumping off his bed. She paused looking solemnly up at him before meowing softly. "It was nice to see you again as well, your majesty. You're welcome anytime." He grinned as the elegant feline loped off, slipping through the door someone must have left open the night before.

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"Harry this is the fourth time you've gone ahead to breakfast without us." Hermione and Ron arrived at breakfast twenty minutes after him this morning. Usually he made it back to the dorms after his run for a quick shower and caught his best friends in the common room so they could walk down together.

He was still earlier than the other houses, though the Slytherins had obviously been in the Great Hall for a while. When he walked in Blaise had caught his eye, his gaze still as powerful as Harry remembered from the train. He wondered what the other could possibly be thinking because his demeanor revealed nothing.

Harry stood in the door of trapped momentarily as Blaise lifted a brow and looked him over. The prolonged anticipation had something unrecognizable twisting nervously in his stomach. What had began as an experiment had mutated into something else entirely. Then Blaise's lips curved into a slight approving smile, inclining his head briefly in acknowledgement before moving back to his breakfast.

Tracey and Daphne noticed him next, their reactions very similar to Blaise, though Tracey did give him a small wave of her fingers when no one was looking.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?"

"Breakfast without you," he answered, blinking quickly to focus on what his annoyed best friend was saying. irritation crinkled her nose. She was definitely starting to wonder about what was going on with him.

"So?"

"Yeah, what's with that? We usually head down together." Ron dropped his things on the floor then reached across the table immediately filling his plate.

Harry watched as Ron loaded his plate full of sausage and eggs before adding several slices of bacon and toast. It amazed him how much his friend could eat when he wasn't even trying. Harry was still suffering through the effects of near starvation from this summer, and he had Leo's meal plan to consider so his plate had been considerably lighter with only a couple slices of bacon, two pieces of wheat toast, a poached egg, porridge and a small cup of ambrosia fruit salad. If he tried to eat as much as Ron, it would have him sicking up in the bathroom a while later. The milk had made keeping the small breakfast down a near thing.

None of his friends ever commented on his light meals because they had a pretty good idea why he ate this way at the beginning of the school term after first year when he'd made himself ill after overeating.

"Are you having trouble sleeping, then? Is that why you're coming down early?" Hermione started on her own bowl of porridge after sprinkling a spoonful of berries and cream over it.

"Could at least wait for us in the common room though so at least we'd be able to walk down together." Ron grumbled around a mouthful of bacon. He drank down half a goblet of pumpkin juice before speaking again. "Are you having night mares about, you-know-who?" Ron paused, anxious, looking around as if the madman in question would suddenly appear and curse Ron for even thinking about him.

"I'm fine." And that was the truth. He had slept well; his grief for Sirius wasn't clawing in his chest with a sharp agony that felt never-ending. All things considered, he truly was okay.

"You'll tell Professor Dumbledore if you get any visions from Vol-Voldemort, won't you?"

"There were no visions Hermione, there's nothing to worry about."

"But-"

"I'm fine." He bit the words off harder this time. Merlin, it was only breakfast. Yes, last year was a nightmare but it was only the first week of school, nothing had happened and he wanted to enjoy feeling good while it lasted. There was nothing to tell.

That's not entirely true, a soft voice whispered in his head that had nothing to do with his nemesis. He was keeping something from them but it had nothing to do with Voldemort.

"I'm glad it's Thursday. The weekend begins soon and we'll be able to catch up with our work." Hermione smiled. He knew she was trying to keep the peace and he gave her one in return, ready to accept the peace offering. He didn't like arguing with his friends, they had been through so much together already.

"We can't study the entire weekend, 'Mione. I'm sure by tomorrow McGonagall will be ready to hand out the schedule for Quidditch practice, so we can get some flying in on the pitch." Ron seemed to realized what he'd said, "I'm sure now that Umbridge is gone your ban will be revoked Harry."

To be honest, he hadn't thought much about Quidditch, though he did want his broom back. It was a memento of Sirius after all. Whether or not he played Quidditch again wasn't important, he had other things to focus on. He would miss the flying, which was his favorite part of the sport. Maybe he could convince McGonagall to give him his broom back if he promised not to fly while the teams were practicing.

"Since those educational decrees were revoked, I'm sure the same will be done for you Harry," Hermione sympathized.

"That would be bad for Ginny, wouldn't it? After she played seeker all last year and helped Gryffindor win the House Cup. I'm sure she doesn't want to just give up her position."

"Gin's a great seeker, but come on Harry, she has nothing on you. We all know that."

"Yeah, I guess," he murmured. Youngest seeker in a century, another one of his titles he had come to dread. He thought of his three Slytherin traveling companions and wondered if they had made a wager on his return to Quidditch and how much it was worth. It brought a small grin to his face that Hermione instantly noticed.

"So if you're sleeping well, why did you come down so early?"

The girl was like a terrier when after something. "It wasn't a big deal really. I woke up early and decided to come down to eat rather than wake anyone."

After Nefertiti left he went for his run, even extending it past the fifteen minutes to twenty. Then he had showered and dressed, feeling pretty good about his appearance when he looked in the mirror. His hair was still only what could be nicely termed a rat's nest. A clean and well brushed rat's nest yes, but his hair would always look like he had a terminal case of bed head no matter what he did to it.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table in his usual spot, he took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts and trying to center himself as the book suggested. Then he spoke the blessing he spent almost thirty minutes the night before memorizing.

Nothing happened. Nothing unusual anyway. First he wondered if he had done it improperly, seeing as magic was about two-thirds intent and one third action. The book hadn't explained exactly what would happen, only to return after he had performed the blessing for more information. He was prepared to scoff and be happy to go back to sleeping in and heading down to breakfast late with his friends.

That is until his magic finally reacted.

Nothing dramatic, no wild sparks or bright colors. Just warmth unfolding in his stomach that spread gradually through his body. The sensation had him dragging in a quick surprised breath as his magic seemed to shimmer through his pores and the feeling slowly fade away. The effect was stunning nonetheless. He felt aware of his magic pulsating inside his body, connected to it in a way he never had before. Did everyone feel this way? He was both jealous and angry that no one had shown him this side of his magic before. It was a sensation he didn't want to loose.

"You do look different this morning," Hermione stared at him again, as if she did it long enough she would finally decipher the mystery. "Relaxed even. Did you comb your hair differently?"

"How can you tell," Ron swallowed another mouthful of food in a way that made Harry grimace. That had to be painful. It was a wonder Ron didn't choke. "He looks the same as he does every morning."

"Maybe it's just the good night's sleep."

"No, you did change your hair. It looks, neater, I guess. And your clothes, they're different."

"Hell Hermione let it go. So the bloke took a shower this morning. It's not a big deal." Ron's frustration clear, as he glared down at his almost empty plate. It was a very familiar action, one harry recognized from fourth year just before the Tri-Wizard tournament. Jealousy. What on earth did Ron have to be jealous of now?

He wasn't going to stick around and find out though. Let the two of them figure it out. He had fifteen minutes before Charms started and wanted to go to library to check out another book referenced from the Traditions sections in the book Tracey gave him about Ancient and Noble Houses. He remembered Sirius telling him about the House of Black and he wanted to know more.

"I forgot my Charms book for class this morning, so I'll catch up with you guys later in class."


	6. Chapter 6

Thursday evenings in the Gryffindor common room had become an unacknowledged study session for most of the fifth and sixth year students, this one no exception as the couches and tables were crowded with books and parchment. When Harry came down from his quick shower and change of clothes he had forgotten this fact as all eyes turned in his direction, inquiring as why he hadn't joined them and didn't appear to be either.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

Ron looking harangued by Hermione, who was pointing out information in their Transfiguration text, jumped on his distraction happily to escape his girlfriend's attention. His words were unasked in Neville and Ginny's gazes who were also sitting at the table with them. Rather than head to the portrait, he changed directions to the table in front of the fireplace. Better to satisfy their questions now, than allow Hermione to build up steam.

He had wanted to be comfortable for the night, seeing as for the first time he didn't have homework to finish. He thought he would run over to the library for an hour or so and do a little research before continuing his next chapter of reading of the Curious Half-Blood. Rather than put on some of Dudley's old things, he had grabbed a pair of black sweats and a dark burgundy long sleeved tee. This one was strangely a favorite. Leo had tagged the front with an animated image of a Hungarian horntail similar to the one from the first task. It was his idea of a joke, as the dragon would occasionally be found curled up on his shoulder with its head resting on his bicep. If only the dragon he had faced in the Tournament had been so docile.

The t-shirt was a bit tighter than he was accustomed to but then most of his second hand clothes were too large or stretched out of shape.

"Just some things Leo purchased for me." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, grimacing at the dampness that still remained. When it dried, it would probably look as if he had received a bad shock. "No big deal."

"Never seen you in anything like that before."

"Those are the type of clothing muggles usually wear when they're exercising Ron. Is that where you're headed?" Hermione had started keeping account of his comings and goings. He appreciated the concern but it was wearing on him more than he might like, considering the secrets he was keeping from them.

"Exercising? Is that why you're getting up so early in the morning Harry?"

He couldn't really blame Neville for asking, he probably thought Ron and Hermione were already privy to this information. "Yes, I've been going for a run at six." He answered carefully, knowing what was coming next and unable to avoid it.

"What are you talking about? I thought you said you were sleeping fine. Why would you be out running so early if you're sleeping okay?" The curtness of Hermione's voice was only overshadowed by her resolve to get answers.

"I am sleeping fine. I told you. I told you it was part of my class 'Mione."

"No, you said the spells were part of your class. You said nothing about exercising." She showed no signs of relenting until she was satisfied. "And why is your Professor purchasing clothes for you Harry?"

"I didn't know he was getting them. He just said that with all the work we would be doing together, that I needed proper attire, that's all. And the exercising is no big deal. Leo said I needed to build up my endurance and running in the mornings would help with that."

"Just who is this Leo character anyway?" Ron decided to voice his own concerns, "He the reason you were doing a Malfoy imitation this morning?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Ginny looked askance at the Malfoy mention.

"He was all dressed up for class, you know. Not like Harry at all."

This was the last thing he wanted to get into. "His name is Leopold Shacklbolt." He raised a brow at them, knowing they would recognize Kingsley's family name from the Order and in the mean time deflect Ron's attention from the other subject."

"Doesn't explain the clothes," Ron muttered, fidgeting in his seat and Harry saw with abrupt clarity the direction of his friend's thoughts.

"You're making big deal out of nothing."

"So is Professor Shacklebolt the only one helping you Harry?"

Ginny's question was probably the worst she could have asked. What to do? Avoid answering, rousing Hermione further or tell his best friend that one of her favorite teachers was instructing in him in her favorite subjects? Why couldn't he have made it out of the common room without garnering attention?

"No, Dumbledore asked Professor Vector-" he didn't even get the opportunity to finish the thought.

"Professor Vector? My Arithmancy instructor? You're not even taking NEWT Arithmancy, Harry, why would you need her help?"

"We haven't been working together much, just talking about magic and how it relates to numerology and ancient runes. Look, I need to get to library before curfew. Septima,"

"Septima!"

He really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. "Professor Vector wants me to look up some information for when we meet again on Monday."

"Maybe I can help," Hermione went to stand, Ron glowered and Ginny's expression was anything but friendly but Harry waved her off.

"No, I'm fine. We're not going over things that she normally teaches in class." He fought the urge to grimace when Hermione's eyes brightened like fairy lights. _'Shut up while you're ahead, Potter,'_ the frustrated voice in his head growled. "I'll see you guys later."

He wasn't ashamed to say that he didn't stop his race through the castle until he arrived at his destination. The morning runs were beginning to come to fruition as he was barely out of breath when he yanked open the door. Madam Pince glared in his direction and he looked down at the ground in apology. Having the library Matron angry with you wasn't the brightest idea if he wanted her assistance.

"Good evening Madam Pince," he greeted with a small incline of his head like he remembered reading in the book Tracey had given him. The action seemed to take most of her ire away, as she offered him a similar salutation. "I was hoping you might be able to help me?"

"Professor Vector came by earlier this afternoon and informed me you might be coming by this evening. You'll find these titles near the ancient magic section in the first row of the Restricted Section." She handed him a small slip of parchment with five titles written down. "You are to collect these books only and bring them to the front when you're ready to check them out. Only these five," she emphasized with a glare. "If I discover you've been anywhere else, your library privileges will be suspended until the end of term, are we clear Mr. Potter?"

"Yes ma'am." He wondered why she hadn't just brought the books to the front desk but set the thought aside. Here was the opportunity to glance at some of the other titles in the ancient magic section. He was quite certain Madam Pince knew he would be doing so, she had only told him not to allow him to be found doing it.

He didn't push his luck, given most of the topics in the books he had pulled from the shelves, he barely understood anyway. They were investigating mind magic, including Occlumency and Legilimency which brought back bad memories, and ancient elemental rituals that used Celtic and Norse runes. He didn't know how that pertained to him, or even how it could possibly help him defeat Voldemort but she was the Professor and she had promised to explain after he had done some reading on the subjects on his own.

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"That's quite a ritual you're reading there. It involves a level of mental acumen not many wizards ever attain."

Startled, Harry's eyes jerked from the confusing words in front of him only to widen at the dark ones filled with mild amusement. Having Blaise Zabini looking down at him caught him off guard as he had been so captured by what he was reading. It was unsettling to think the Slytherin might have been standing there for some time observing him while Harry was oblivious.

Before this year, he never noticed Blaise. Now, it seemed the boy was always at the edge of his perception. They shared Potions, Charms and Transfiguration together, though he was usually with either Daphne or Tracey. He knew from Hermione that he was also taking NEWT Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

And what had passed between them this morning, exactly? One moment he had been entering the Hall for breakfast and the next he was staring at Blaise feeling vulnerable and exposed for a reason he had yet to uncover. Maybe Blaise was on his mind so much today because he had started the morning with Nefertiti. But that didn't explain why Blaise's small gesture of approval had meant so much to him at the time. Daphne and Tracey had certainly offered their own measure of support, so what made Blaise's small almost unnoticeable smile so important?

"And how would you know that?" His voice was scratchy from his prolonged silence. "I suppose you're going to tell me you have attained such mental acumen?"

"No. I do however consider Ancient Runes my specialty and plan to attain my Mastery in the field after graduating Hogwarts."

"Doesn't account for reading over my shoulder."

"I couldn't help myself."

The words were delivered so deadpan, Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I thought Slytherins were more cunning than that? Caught spying by a Gryffindor? What will the others say?"

"Perhaps that's all part of my grand plan," he folded arms across his chest, revealing sinewy muscle running through his bare arms. Bare arms that were free of the Dark mark, Harry was happy to note. He was wearing the dark gray shirt and trousers from dinner this evening. The shirt had two buttons open at the neck, missing the dark emerald tie Blaise had been wearing. The sleeves had also been opened and rolled up to his elbow but the relaxed clothing did nothing to deter from the firm strength emanating from his presence.

"And that plan would be?"

"To get you to allow me to see that book," he gestured with a slight incline of his head, his handsome face kindled with pleasure at their bantering. "Considering I know it came from the Restricted Section, and I happen to know you need permission to check it out and you're not in my Ancient Runes class."

Harry looked around the library noting how much time had passed, a lot more than the hour he had been planning to spend. In fact he had about ten more minutes before Madam Pince would be around to escort him out of the library for closing. "You want to see this book? What will you trade me?"

"Information for information," Blaise nodded in agreement. "Is that your Slytherin side showing again Harry?" The way his husky baritone purred over the pronunciation of his name sent a shiver of awareness down his spine. This game they were playing had stepped into unfamiliar territory that he wasn't sure he knew how to participate.

"I-" he broke off, not knowing what to say.

Thankfully Blaise took mercy on him. "What would you like to trade? Your grades in Charms and Transfiguration are probably equal to mine. Your commendation in Defense Against the Dark Arts is the first one issued in twenty years, so you wouldn't need my help there."

"How do you know about that?" It was something not even his best friends knew about, as he hadn't wanted to make a big deal about it.

"Everyone knows Harry; it was in the Daily Prophet. Daphne did warn you, you were a front page staple this summer, remember."

So his friends already knew and said nothing about it? "You could help me with Potions, I'm pants at that."

"Daphne would be a better choice, though if you insisted." Blaise left off the unstated agreement.

"No," he paused wondering if he was going to take this big of a step out on faith. "No you could help me with Ancient Runes. I'm doing some work for a Professor and could use someone to bounce ideas off of. In return, you get to read the book."

"Why aren't you making this arrangement with Granger? I'm sure she would be happy to help, without the quid pro quo."

Because he didn't want to deal with her questions. He wasn't ready to talk with his friends about his private lessons and he could avoid that with Blaise. Because he didn't want to deal with Ron's insecurities, as he wondered why he and Hermione were spending so much time together. So many answers could apply to such a simple question. When the most prominent one was the probably the right one.

He wanted a reason to spend time with Blaise without his friends prying eyes and this would give it to him.

Harry had so many secrets this year; his friends would be hurt and furious when they uncovered them. The bad part of the situation was that he really didn't care. There were lots of things about him and his life weren't aware of. Sure they had some inclining but no confirmation. His life at the Dursleys. The prophecy. The book Tracey gave him. This would just be one more Harry Potter enigma among the rest.

"Because I'm making it with you." His voice was clear and when their eyes met again, Blaise blinked once in utter amazement.

"Done. May I," he gestured to the chair opposite Harry but he shook his head.

"Madam Pince will be ready to close up soon. Why don't we head downstairs, we can find an old classroom to use until curfew."

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"So why were you in the library tonight?"

Blaise glanced up at the quiet inquiry still trying to decipher the mystery of the Boy-who-lived. 'Harry,' a soft inner voice reprimanded him. The teenager before him wasn't the Gryffindor hero, he was simply Harry, and Blaise had to wonder how many people actually had a chance to see this side of him.

Instead of a classroom, they had found what looked like an old private office situated halfway between the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms, so they wouldn't have far to travel back to their rooms. Harry cast the Scourgify, to get rid of the layers of dust, while he transfigured the old furniture into two small couches and a heavy oak table so they could sit comfortably. There were candles for light that they used sparingly, not wanting to draw attention to the occupied room.

With each flick of his wand, Harry had held most of his attention. Magic writhing and pulsating around them, thick with power and emotion, enough to make his senses swim. Harry had no idea the passion his magic contained or else he wouldn't be so free in sharing it with others. It gathered around Blaise, building in devastating ripples, before flowing over him, a sensual caress. Questioning, seeking, and full of innocence that told him Harry wasn't even doing this consciously. Blaise knew Tracey wanted Harry for their Coven, he would make an excellent match to their circle but being sexually attracted to the Lion wasn't planned at all.

"I was returning books when I saw you and thought I would say hello."

The physical attraction was there, because Harry was quite beautiful, despite his efforts to conceal it. A dark brow rose in contemplation, as Blaise realized, Harry wasn't in his usual attire. He didn't know why it took so long to notice, maybe because he tended to focus on Harry's voice or the intensity of his verdant eyes that his clothing had ceased to matter. Though whoever had given these items had Blaise's gratitude.

Harry wasn't overly tall or very muscular, but he looked hard, lean and sinewy, more than capable of handling himself and the magic he wielded. He especially appreciated the way those fleece pants rode low on Harry's waist. More importantly, the aura of shyness that surrounded him at times was missing. This is what Harry Potter looked like comfortable with himself and it was an appealing image.

"Thought you would sneak a glimpse of my book you mean," Harry smirked, reclining back and resting his hands over his belly. "So, about our arrangement. I need someone to help me learn both Celtic and Norse runes. Preferably in the next month. I need to be able to identify, draw and make sense of them and what they're used for."

"You don't ask for much," he grunted, as what Harry was asking wasn't easy. On top of all the work for their classes? Well it would be a good review for Ancient Runes anyway. "And in return, you'll allow me to see the book."

"I can't let you take it to Slytherin dorms with you but I can give you complete access to it otherwise."

"Copying spells don't work on items from the Restricted Section." He pointed out. It would take him weeks to hand copy it.

"You don't need to hold my hand while we're working. We can meet here; say Tuesdays and Thursdays, around this time. You work on the book and answer any questions I have."

It was a good deal, especially as he wasn't going to convince Harry to allow him to take the book into the dungeons. "Add in every other Saturday and Sunday and we have a deal."

"You want to study on Saturday night?"

"I have no immediate plans in the future, do you?"

"No, not really. Now that Ron and Hermione are together, they tend to spend the evenings together, which is fine. They're a couple; they should spend that time together." Harry qualified.

"And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I won't be interrupting any intimate plans will I?"

"Is that supposed to be a joke or something?" Harry had stiffened in his seat and was now glaring daggers at him.

"Not at all," he answered, which seemed to appease Harry. "I thought maybe you and the youngest Weasley would be sharing time together now that she is no longer involved with Thomas." It had hit the Hogwarts gossip on Monday that the Gryffindor couple had split. Rumor had it Thomas was angry that she was spending too much time in the company of a certain Boy-Who-Lived and considering Weasley's affection for the leader of their pride, no one was surprised.

"Ginny? But Hermione said she was over that crush last year." It sounded like this information was the last thing Harry wanted to possess. "I don't," he paused, looking almost panicked, "I don't think of Ginny that way. She's like Hermione, like family. I can't-"

"And you're taking this too hard, Harry." Blaise pointed out with a small smile. "Blame this on me actually. I was curious and could have asked the question better."

"Curious about me and Ginny? Why?"

Blaise knew Harry wasn't ready to hear the answer to that question. If he would ever be. It was one thing befriending a Slytherin, offering an exchange of knowledge in truce. Those things were without risk. It was something else entirely to allow Harry Potter to know all the things he contemplating doing to his very seductive mouth.

"Ask me again sometime, perhaps I'll explain."


	7. Chapter 7

The pale golden candlelight swayed and mocked at the ragged shadows created by the different cracks and jagged edges of the granite walls. No amount of charms could rid the air of the salty tang of the ocean which lay just on the other side of the fortress.

His fortress.

Its magnificence barely worthy of him but as this bastion had been created by his hand and his magic, nothing more was worthy to be used as the stronghold for his Death Eaters. Here his plans would take shape, just as his wand had carved into the side of this cliff. Here he would sculpt and mold the Wizarding world until it fit the image of his demands. This fortification would satisfy until he had the power of Hogwarts and it's convergence of magic at his command.

He looked out amongst his faithful, finally recovered from the unexpected blow his adversary had dealt him. More than two hundred marked and ready to serve, to bring about a new world free from the filth of dirty blood and pathetic muggles who had not the sense to bow before their betters. Alliances formed each day as his emissaries brought word of the Darker forces of the Wizarding world, the giants and werewolves, even the lesser clans of vampires who were ready to take back what should be rightful theirs.

Too many of his devout were captured by the ministry, imprisoned in Azkaban. Let this be their punishment for failing at his given task. He would remove them when he called his dementors to his side and they would understand Lord Voldemort did not absolve failure without due consequence.

Despite his renewal there was doubt and dissension amongst his ranks. Legilimency wasn't required to see those who were weak and unfaithful to his cause. They wondered how one such as the Potter brat had wounded him.

'There is your example,' the thought materialized as his gaze caught the bowed form of a Death Eater in the third row. Effortlessly, he delved into the coward's inner thoughts. The power sent a thrill of arousal down his spine. It was there, all bared and vulnerable before him.

_Cold sweat trailed down his back, as the hands that scrapped for surface in the dirt trembled violently. How had he allowed Cornelius to convince him being a Death Eater would bring him power? The Dark Lord wasn't right. He wasn't human._

_He couldn't breathe, dear Merlin, the stench and revulsion it made his flesh crawl. Dark tendrils of magic seemed to be creeping up his chest to wrap around his throat. Choking him._

_His fear brought forth violent tremors that he couldn't control, any moment he feared the release of his bowels as all of his instincts revolted, shot through with a jolt of magic that demanded he save himself. Run. Run. Run._

_What was beneath that black robe was no wizard. No man. It was evil. Pure and untainted evil and dear Merlin what would be released on the Wizarding world. Nothing could stop it. The depths of hatred and malice tried to invade his pores. Those bowed near the front could only be insane. How could they stand to be so near it?_

_And they thought Potter could save them all. Potter? A mere boy to fight this malevolence? They were doomed._

Malevolence. Yes, he liked that description. He who was death personified. He who possessed magic and power they could never fathom. The very power which brought them to their knees before him, which they clung to like spoiled children, sycophants whose desires he could manipulate for his own whims.

"Giblin," his voice emerged the darkest of purrs. From the edge of his perception he could see Bella almost writhing with pleasure. Yes, she, with the blackest of hearts and magic knew his intentions well. Azkaban might have splintered the last of her sanity, evidenced by the way she giggled like a mad child, but her wand and her devotion was absolute.

"Yes my Lord." The answered trembled, his horror so vibrant and fervent he would have savored the purity of its essence had it come from one other than his Death Eaters who were supposed to be strong. Fear him, yes, for he was their Lord and their fear was his due. Weakness was not to be tolerated.

"Have you something you wish to share with your brothers and sisters this evening, Giblin?"

He knew the weakling was confused. "No my Lord."

"Ah, but I have heard your thoughts Giblin, your doubts of my greatness. You wonder if the Potter boy will destroy your Lord."

"No, please," the whimper brought a chuckle forth that was cold enough to freeze the air. "I never, doubted my Lord. Never."

"Are you lying to your Lord, Giblin?"

"He doubts you my Lord," Bella shrieked and cackled one right after the other. "Thinks that boy Potter could ever affect your magnificence."

Though unexpected, He wasn't unaware of the boy's potential. Neither was that fool Dumbledore, he was well done to hide the Potter child from him, prophecy or no. For like called to like and as much as the brave little lion liked to deny, there were more similarities between them than differences.

Perhaps…

But He was not one to dwell on the past. The offer of alliance had been made and turned aside. The boy had made his choices and would have to suffer the consequences.

_"Crucio."_

The unforgivable struck the man with enough force to rip him from his knees and onto his back as he began to scream and thrash about on the ground. Pleasure streaked through His body, even as he pressed more of his magic into the curse. Rather than this weakling of a Death Eater, he imagined his adversary trembling before him screaming and struggling in agony before him.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," he warned in a dark murmur after releasing the curse he had held for more than three minutes. "I am Lord Voldemort. Your loyalty is mine. Your magic is mine. Your life," he paused, twisting his wand in the barest of movements. _"Avada Kedavra."_ The green light burst free of his wand, ripping the life-force from Giblin before he even knew what was happening as his mind had long since broken under the force of the Cruciatus.

"Your life is mine."

 

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Neville Longbottom wasn't a smart man. Not in the way his girlfriend Luna was. Many people underestimated his Luna, forgetting the sorting hat placed her within Ravenclaw for a reason. He wasn't exactly brave, though he would faithfully stand beside his family and friends and defend them with his life. As the Gryffindor who often destroyed cauldrons and was terrified of Professor Snape, he could be considered neither unique nor remarkable. Not like his friend Harry Potter. Or at least these were the things he would say if asked to describe himself.

The very understanding he found for Luna Lovegood, should probably be applied to himself, as the sorting hat deemed Neville a Gryffindor for a reason as well. His bravery wasn't like Harry's, as he hadn't been forced onto a path most normal teenage boys would have fallen from long ago. Ron was a perfect example. He was Harry's best friend and had participated in most of his adventures during their years at Hogwarts. Ron came from a strong, loving family, had good friends, was a talented wizard with a pretty girlfriend and still was found wanting.

No Neville Longbottom's bravery was quiet, unassuming, knowing when to take a stand and always loyal to his friends. It was the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom dictum, _Verus et fidelis simper._ True and faithful ever.

That loyalty was sorely tested that Sunday morning when he was awakened by his friend's screaming.

"Damn, I thought he was done with these," he heard Ron mutter as he climbed from bed to make his way over to Harry. Dean and Seamus weren't too far behind, as no one could sleep through the horrible sounds Harry was making in his sleep.

"What's wrong with him," Seamus had moved closer to his best friend, both more than shaken by the image of Harry thrashing around on his bed in what looked to be the worst pain imaginable. "Why is he acting this way?"

"You remember the dream," Dean murmured softly, "Like last year."

A part of himself, held aside watching almost clinically, could have smiled at the way the two held onto each other after Dean's sentence. Harry released a particularly loud shriek and the jagged scar that made him famous seemed to split open and seep down the front of Harry's face in a macabre of gore and blood.

"Get a cold towel Ron to put on his head," Neville demanded, galvanized into action as he moved to the side of Harry's bed. "Dean, Seamus, you hold his legs down so he doesn't hurt himself."

He grabbed Harry's chest and shoulders, trying to hold his struggling body down as Ron raced back in to hold the towel to the bleeding scar. Instantly Harry moaned, his head moving from side to side before coming to rest as his chest heaved with each breath he labored to drag in.

"I think it's over," Ron whispered, the freckles on his face bold and pronounced against his pale skin.

_"Let this be a lesson to you all."_

Neville looked down, "Harry?" It wasn't his friend's voice. No, there in the depths of that green gaze was the presence of evil that Harry faced down every year. How had he fought so long and so hard against something so terrible.

 _"I am Lord Voldemort. Your loyalty is mine. Your magic is mine. Your life,"_ Harry paused and by this time, Dean and Seamus had shied away from the bed. Ron stood wide eyed at his side, hands crushing the towel in a panicked grip. One of Harry's hands raised slowly, a cruel smirk touching his mouth just as his hand performed the barest of movements and brought forth words Neville thought he would never hear from his friend's mouth.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted, jumping backward as he must have felt the same swell of magic he had. Without a wand, the spell had no way to release and the dark magic settled around Harry as he let out a long audible breath.

_"Your life is mine."_

That sickening voice finished and the presence left Harry completely as he came abruptly awake and began weeping.

Neville looked to Ron, expecting him to do something for Harry, offer some form of comfort for the horror their fellow lion had just experienced but he did nothing but stare down at Harry in a mixture of dread and fear. Though Dean and Seamus' expressions was similar, there was one thing present missing in Ron's.

Compassion.

"It's okay Harry," Neville murmured, disgusted with Ron for allowing Harry to go through that alone. He touched a trembling hand to Harry's head, feeling him stiffen.

"No," he cried, his voice strained and cracked around the word as he tried to squirm away from Neville's attentions. "No, don't touch me, don't, don't," Harry's voice trailed off as his hysteria grew.

"it's okay Harry," Neville reaffirmed more strongly this time, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could wrap his arms around the trembling teen. "I'm here Harry. It's over now. You're not alone. Harry."

Those few words seemed all Harry could bear. He covered his face with trembling hands, despair and agony filling the air, as he gave vent to the bitter sobs that wracked his slim body.

It was a moment of epiphany for Neville. Before now, talk of Voldemort and Death Eaters had seemed like something happening to someone else and not affecting him. Yes, his life had been destroyed by Death Eaters the night they took his parents from him but still he hadn't connected to what was coming the way Harry had. Not even their trip in the Department of Mysteries had brought home that truth. It was here, watching probably the strongest person he knew fall apart where Neville realized the War that lay ahead.

It became, _genuine_ , because although he knew Harry had fallen, he would pull himself back together to stand again against you-know…no, against Vol, Voldemort, Neville amended though the terror of even speaking that name was enough to tighten a knot in his chest. Harry would stand and as his friend, as a Longbottom how could he do anything less than be there at his side.

His honor and the old ways demanded nothing less.

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_"This is an infirmary, Professor Snape, and I will not have you upsetting my patients. When Mr. Potter awakens, I'm sure you and the Headmaster will have plenty of opportunity to speak with him."_

As he dragged himself from the comforting grip of oblivion, Harry had to wonder if Madam Pomfrey actually thought she would be able to deter Dumbledore when he was determined. Her voice was a mixture of annoyance and consideration. It always surprised him how she managed to make a whisper hold such a level of rebuke. Unfortunately, he knew the Headmaster wanted information and would rennervate him personally to get it if necessary.

Someone would have gone to Dumbledore even as they were rushing him to the infirmary for treatment. The vivid images of the nightmare wouldn't leave him as he watched Voldemort torture one of his Death Eaters over and over. The worst part had been the madman's enjoyment, the arousal, he felt inflicting such torment. When Harry had cast the cruciatus curse at Bellatrix, she had laughed at him, said he had needed to want it to hurt someone and he couldn't believe himself capable of such an act.

Now he knew. His magic now knew the depths of the unforgiveable and it made him sick to the stomach to have shared those emotions with Voldemort. The remains of the dark magic of the killing curse felt fetid and dank against his skin. Inside of him. There was no way to explain the revulsion he felt, as his own magic was used against him in such a way. The worst of ways.

"I'm awake, Madam Pomfrey," he murmured, halting the arguing voices as their attentions were immediately drawn to him.

"Ah, Harry, it's good that you're awake. How are you feeling, my boy."

"I've been better." Just how did the man think he felt? His head felt like someone was trying to cleave it open with an axe and the light brought white flashes behind his eyes making him feel as though he would vomit at any moment.

"Here Mr. Potter, let me help you to sit up so you can swallow this." A moment later, the bed had lifted to an incline. "It's a mild pain relieving potion, though I hesitate in giving you one, as the other shouldn't have worn off just yet. " A few seconds later and Harry felt as close to normal as he ever would after one of those nightmares.

"Thank you Madam Pomfrey." This time when he tried to open his eyes, they no longer felt as though they were being stabbed with thousand of sharp knives.

"Yes, Poppy, perhaps you can give us a few moments alone with Mr. Potter. Only a few, as he needs his rest after such an ordeal."

Harry didn't need to see Snape's face or hear the grunt of disapproval to know the man had no sympathy towards him at all. He didn't even understand why Snape was there in the first place. If only to enjoy his pain and wish his father was the one bearing it instead. There wasn't much trust between him and potions master regardless of Dumbledore's opinion of the man.

"Perhaps if we're done coddling the boy, we can begin questioning him about the Dark Lord's intentions and what he may or may not have seen tonight?"

"Can you be any bigger an arsehole?" Harry mutter, but not softly enough as he caught the sounds of Madam Pomfrey's amusement as she walked away.

"20 points from Gryffindor, Potter and detention tomorrow at 8 for disrespecting a Hogwarts Professor."

Harry tilted his head just in time to catch the nasty smirk on Snape's face. "Was it good for you too?" He couldn't resist asking.

"Of all the-" the man's smarmy face reddened in fury as he took a step forward.

"That's enough Severus." Dumbledore interrupted the coming tirade, "And you as well Harry. I think its time to place petty differences in the past where they belong."

"Of course, sir," Snape answered, though his dark eyes were promising retribution the next day when the Headmaster wasn't around to protect him.

"So, Harry, can you tell us about your nightmare this evening?"

"It's nothing special. Evidently Voldemort was injured during the fight at the Ministry but he's better now. I mean really well. It felt like his magic was stronger than normal."

"That would fall in line with the potions he's had you brewing him, Severus." Dumbledore looked toward the Professor and nodded as information was exchanged Harry wasn't privy to.

"I guess I should thank you for this then?"

He knew Snape was a spy, but that didn't stop his abhorrence of the man. In order to become a spy, Snape had to have been a Death Eater in the beginning. He didn't get the dark mark by pretending to hate muggle-borns and thinking about murdering muggles. Snape had to actually lift his wand and taint his magic. Those actions weren't easy to forget, he felt like they would always be with him and he wasn't the one actually committing those heinous acts.

"If you hadn't been such an impetuous, meddlesome brat, who believed his behavior beyond reproach, you wouldn't still be suffering from these incidents as you would know how to sufficiently occlude your mind from the Dark Lord."

"You're saying it's my fault your teaching leaves much to be desired?" His sneer was a mirror of the one Snape wore. "Clear your mind, Potter. Clear your mind, Potter. Isn't that what you kept screaming at me before pointing your wand at me and ripping my head open?"

"Is it my fault you didn't take the initiative to research more upon the intricacies of Occlumency. Hogwarts has a perfectly sufficient library in which her students are welcome to take advantage of."

"No, it's your fault for being a despicable bastard who actually enjoyed hurting me," he sat foward on the bed, hands fisted and ready to attack.

"Enough!"

Dumbledore's voice though quiet had an ominous command to it that forbade any dissention. "The two of you are behaving like small children. Harry if you wish to be treated as an adult you must behave as one. And Severus, I'm very disappointed in your actions this evening. We're here for very important information, not to antagonize Harry."

"And of course you shall take the Golden Boy's side," Snape's coolly impersonal tone couldn't hide the bitter edge in his words.

"Hn," Harry denied in a nasty tone, "And if you believe that, I have to wonder at your sanity."

"You were telling us about Voldemort, Harry." Harry noted that Dumbledore didn't exactly deny Harry's accusations either.

"Yes, he's better, stronger and mad as hell. I think that sums Voldemort up nicely, don't you?"

"Potter, we don't have time for your childish temper tantrums."

"Did you discover why he's angry?"Dumbledore, sighed in a dull troubled voice. Part of Harry felt bad for being such a prat but he was the one in the infirmary bed feeling corrupted and defiled due to visions from a madman, would it be so difficult for either of them to show some consideration to his true feelings and not just the pretense.

"He was angry with the other Death Eaters for getting captured at the Ministry. He plans to leave them in there for the time being until he calls the dementors to service. He's made some alliances and he killed a follower to set an example just incase there were any ready to turn traitor. I don't even believe he knew I was present during all of this."

He recalled some of Voldemort's inner thoughts. The man though evil had actually sounded like he respected Harry in his own bizarre fashion. It didn't mean he wouldn't hesitate to kill Harry if the opportunity presented itself but more as if he appreciated a worthy adversary before slaughtering him and taking dominion of the Wizarding world.

"Thank you my boy. I know this isn't easy for you." Dumbledore patted his shoulder and Harry had to resist the urge to flinch away from the contact. "I believe it would be in your best interests to resume your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

"Not happening," Harry spat out.

"I object, I refuse to instruct this arrogant officious boy anymore than necessary. I already consented to his presence in a potions class that he did not qualify for. I will not waste more of my valuable time on this boy!"

"I must insist, Severus. It is for the best to block Voldemort's invasions of Harry's mind."

The argument went on for some time and harry could see Dumbledore actually wearing Snape down until the snarky git would eventually agree. "I think you're both missing the point." He interrupted, with no vestige of understanding in its hardness. "I'm not taking the lessons and there is nothing either of you can do to convince me otherwise."

"Harry, really I must not take no for an answer. It's for your own good."

"you can insist all you like but you can't make me do this. So I suggest we drop the subject all together."

"And what about the Dark Lord's ability to enter your mind anytime he wishes? Or are you simply going to get someone else killed."

"Get out."

Snape's sneer faltered for a second at the harsh order, before intensifying, "Just like your father. Always believing you deserve special treatment, that you're above the rules and regulations set down for everyone else."

"I said get out! I have to listen to you in class. I have to listen to you as a Professor here at Hogwarts but I bloody well don't have to listen to you mock my godfather's death and disparage my father. Get the Hell away from me!"

"Potter-"

"Harry please."

He turned a gaze so cold and savage on Dumbledore then, the Headmaster took a step away. All the anger and rage he had tried to contain broke free from the already shaky restraints. The emotions from last year, spending the summer locked away and this last nightmare were the limit to his understanding.

"You want me on the front line like a good little solider to kill your Dark Lord? Then get him the fuck away from me."

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It wasn't planned for him to spend the last day of his weekend trapped in the infirmary, and it was a near thing. Madam Pomfrey had to treat a Hufflepuff second year who was a victim of one of the twins 'Wheezes' giving him the opportunity to slip away without notice. There wasn't much she could do for him anyway and had planned to release him for dinner later that evening anyway a few hours earlier wouldn't cause much harm.

He had plans for the remainder of the afternoon that needed to be taken care of before Thursday.

Rather than close himself up in the castle, he would take advantage of the nice afternoon. After gathering his materials from the Gryffindor tower, and collecting Hedwig, he found a nice spot in front of the lake to work. He transfigured a large rock into a flat surface he could write on and pulled out the special parchment and quill he ordered for this purpose.

"Alright girl, you enjoy yourself." The snowy white owl sitting on his shoulder, nipped lightly at his ear before taking to the sky for an afternoon of flying.

A quick nip down to the kitchens had rewarded him with a thermos of warm cider and two large apple walnut muffins left over from lunch. He didn't think Leo would be upset by this small snack. So he spread out the large blanket he brought with him and sat down for a few minutes of watching Hedwig fly, missing his broom like crazy and wishing he could be up in the sky instead of down on the ground watching.

It didn't escape him that most people spent afternoons like this with a significant other. Ron and Hermione were probably tucked away somewhere enjoying the quiet time. Even Neville was dating, as Harry had found his fellow Gryffindor and Luna Lovegood holding hands on their way to the greenhouse. At the direction his life was heading, his quiet times would probably always be spent alone. No one would want to risk dating him with Voldemort waiting to kill him. The best he could do would be to enjoy the little moments while he could. This was the reason this party was so important to him.

He had been reading in The Curious Half-Blood when he came across the coming of age celebration and thought it would be nice to arrange one for Hermione and her 17th birthday. It was simple to arrange the food with the house elves, they were eager to provide the refreshments for such an important occasion. Even if Hermione wasn't exactly their favorite witch due to her SPEW efforts. The Room of Requirement would provide decorations so he just needed to make invitations and send them out on Monday so everyone would have time to let him know if they could attend.

Ron hadn't made any plans for her when he asked, so Harry thought it great idea to give this to Hermione. The book had said typically a family member would host the gathering but as Hermione's parents were muggles, there was no way for them to even perform the opening ceremony or the other blessings involved as they required magic. He thought of Hermione like a sister, and she was one of his best friends, so it would probably be acceptable for him to host the gathering for her. It would be a nice way for all of their friends could get together to celebrate her birthday.

At the very least it would take him mind off the month of detentions he received for cursing out Professor Dumbledore.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco Malfoy swaggered into the Slytherin common room Monday afternoon with a smirk on his face that immediately put every single student within visual distance on guard. Not much had changed about the Slytherin during his tenure at Hogwarts. Rather than mercilessly slicked back, his hair was parted at the side and sculpted to neatly frame his face. He was still pale, his features remained somewhat angular and he dressed with the utmost care as befitted his station.

Crabbe and Goyle remained ever faithful in their place two steps behind him like the well trained pets they were. Parkinson now clung like a limpet to his arm as she evidently claimed her life's ambition as Malfoy's significant other.

Sometimes blood remained ever true, Blaise mused, as he held back a sigh displeasure.

He found the four of them amusing, really. The perfect caricature of Slytherin, as none of them exhibited the true characteristics of their house. Cunning was a trait Malfoy had yet to become acquainted with, as his actions were as apparent as the sneer on his face. The two thugs' life ambition was to be seen and not heard and between them held the knowledge of a third year, using their connections to drift through school until they took up their Death Eater masks. And like her mother, Parkinson had terrorized the girls of Slytherin who even dared glance in Malfoy's direction more than twice.

They held the old ways in contempt, making a pretense of following them as was the tradition of Slytherin house. Preferring instead to practice the darkest of magic in preparation of their lives in support of the same Dark Lord who threatened the very existence of the Wizarding world every time his Death Eaters went out into the muggle world.

How could he take Malfoy seriously when his every thought, every gesture was a pale imitation of his father? When every word from his spiteful mouth typically began with 'My Father' or 'The Dark Lord'?

"Potter's finally cracked."

The blond stopped in the center of the common room to make his announcement. Practically preened with joy. "I guess knowing the Dark Lord was gong to destroy him and his blood traitor and mudblood friends was more pressure than the pathetic half-blood could handle."

"They said he was carried into the infirmary crying like a baby," Parkinson giggled cruelly even as she looked to her boyfriend for approval.

"I heard from a Ravenclaw who was studying in the library that Potter snapped and tried to hex Professor Snape. Said he lost Gryffindor a hundred points and received three months of detention." A brave fourth year spoke up from his seat by a bookcase where he sat with three others studying.

Malfoy didn't' look pleased to have his spotlight stolen and definitely not by a younger student but it was too late. The gossip line in Slytherin had commenced and would only continue to gain momentum.

"I heard two Hufflepuffs saying when he was brought into the infirmary; Potter was covered in blood from where he had tried to kill himself." A blonde third year grinned and practically vibrated in her seat, so eager was she to be able to contribute. Conduct very unbecoming of a Slytherin to _show_ her enjoyment.

"There was a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff in the Great Hall at lunch that said Potter tried to hex his friends and that's the reason he was covered in blood." A second year tried to contribute, "But then Dumbledore caught stopped him and Potter tried to attack the Headmaster and had to be tied in restraints in the infirmary and drugged."

Gossip by the time it reached the ears of Slytherin common room was usually so distorted and far-fetched that it took years of practice in deciphering each layer until some accurate pieces of the truth could be found.

Harry was definitely in the infirmary recently, the reason was subjective as Harry had made the treatment center a mainstay due to the injuries he acquired over the years. Professor Snape and Harry were in an altercation at some point. Detention was a given as were the usual loss of house points. This was nothing new. Snape punishing Harry for some reason, valid or otherwise, was as dependable as sunrise. And usually a way to make a few galleons before Hogsmeade weekend.

The blood was a cause for concern because it had been mentioned more than once but Harry was in classes all day so it must not have been serious.

"It almost seems a waste now to kill him," Malfoy had to speak up over the rising voice level to regain the attention he had lost so he could begin pontificating again.

"The Dark Lord has plans for Pothead and I plan to be there when he's begging at our Lord's feet begging for his life."

From the very first time Harry rejected Malfoy, the boy had become obsessed with _'getting Potter.'_ From trying to hurt his feelings by insulting his friends and his deceased parents to trying to get Harry in trouble and sabotaging his potions in class, Malfoy tried every thing possible and usually failed.

"Such a child," Blaise murmured, standing from his seat in the shadows by the fireplace and started making his way toward the entrance. Perhaps if fortune deemed him worthy, he might catch Harry before he went to serve his detention. It would be nice to speak to him again, as he had enjoyed being with the Gryffindor the other evening.

"Did you say something Zabini?"

Not satisfied with the attention his announcement had garnered, Malfoy had resorted to his usual, attacking students to reassert his dominance. Usually the boy had sense to avoid throwing barbs in his direction but seemed to think he needed something dramatic to get his point across.

"Of course he didn't Draco, Zabini knows better." Parkinson drawled, making certain she was loud enough to draw everyone's attention to the altercation. "He knows his place." This made Crabbe and Goyle start chuckling like the performing animals they were.

"Yes, the Zabini family has been _neutral_ for years, Pansy." Draco made it obvious what he thought of the word neutral. "Though, I really don't see what his family could do for the Dark Lord. Other than money of course, magically they're as weak as Potter."

That brought a small smirk to his face before he could stop it. A comparison to Harry wasn't a bad thing in his opinion. It was too bad Malfoy was too ignorant to know otherwise.

"Of course if the Dark Lord needed to kill off the blood traitors, he could always try marrying them off to the _'black widow.'_ That would get the job done, wouldn't it Zabini."

Hearing that moniker come from Parkinson of all people brought forth a rage he could barely control. It wanted to strike out, to take revenge for what that damned family had done to his mother. Hardening his heart, he turned a gaze of cold fury and watched the witch flinch and burrow closer to Malfoy as if that would protect her should he choose to act.

"You would do well to keep my name from your lips."

The room was still now, perched on the edge of anticipation as a confrontation never witnessed began to unfold. He silently cursed Malfoy for drawing this attention. This was not his way but perhaps had been years in the making. Normally he would have ignored Malfoy and continued on with his business but no one, no one, disrespected his mother.

"What was that Zabini? I didn't quite hear you all the way over there." Malfoy's sneer daring him to step into the Slytherin political arena he had avoided for years. The hierarchy was well established and Malfoy had no fear.

Slowly he turned, tilting his head to the side as he looked the wizard over. Pansy gasped and paled at the icy disdain he aimed in their direction. Afraid, she released her grip on Malfoy's arm and took refuge behind him with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I said," he began slowly enunciating each word so there would be no mistaking his warning this time. "You would do well to keep my name from your lips. Malfoy."

Whispers broke out then, from the corner of his eye he saw the first and second years slowly edging their way out of the path of the confrontation. Astoria, Daphne's younger sister, was in the room and carefully rose from her seat heading toward the girls' dorms, telling him that Daph and Tracey were upstairs and would soon be joining them.

"So you're taking up for Potter now? Against our Lord. That would be rather foolish don't you think? A Slytherin taking the side of a Gryffindor. You know the rules of our house Zabini, where your loyalties should lie."

"My loyalties are my own, as they have always been. As the Zabinis always will be. I'm not surprised you wouldn't understand the difference as the smaller, more intricate, aspects of Slytherin cunning seem to escape you."

"What did you say?"

"I believe you understood me quite well, daddy's boy."

"Crabbe, Goyle-"

"Why don't you come over here instead Malfoy? I might be able to respect you more without you hiding behind your pet boarhounds."

Malfoy took two quick furtive glances around, realizing their altercation was going in a direction he didn't like. The sneer on his face grew uglier as he stalked across the space toward, his wand already gripped in his hand and a curse on his lips.

Three moves, he thought carefully. Malfoy would be capable in a dual. His father would ensure that as the son's place would be as a Death Eater and the Dark Lord would not tolerate incompetency. Blaise's mind was already working the scenario, seeing each advancement as it progressed and what could counter.

The Zabini's might be neutral but by no means were they weak. His grandfather had pounded that lesson into his mind and body from the moment he turned eight years old.

_"Confringo."_

But before Malfoy had finished the word Zabini was moving.

 _Right leg sweep,_ he performed without thought as his left arm was shoving Malfoy's wand arm to the side so that his curse went wide. _Right jab, left hook combination,_ the physical brutality surprising the teen and he had the pleasure of feeling bone crunch beneath his fist. The force of the punches did their job, sending Malfoy crashing back to the floor. _Athame,_ the ritual dagger he carried in a holster on his left arm at all times was in his hand as he lowered to one knee over the boy. The blade pressed into his throat, even as Malfoy's head bounced off the floor.

 _"Incendia vesica,"_ he murmured as a smirk of his own curled his upper lip. Carefully he poured his magic into the spell. The blade slowly began to turn golden red as he halted shy of actual flame.

"Stop it. Stop it!" Malfoy's panicking voice grew louder with each protest as his skin began to sizzle.

"I thought you wanted to play?"

"My father-"

"Isn't here right now and your throat would be slit and with your life blood draining on the floor before he was even told of your stupidity." Blaise pointed out.

"When the Dark Lord-"

"There is a reason the Dark Lord respects my family's neutrality, daddy's boy. You would do well not to speak of things which you have no knowledge of. Malfoy."

"Blaise are you torturing Malfoy? What did we tell you about playing with children?" There was amusement in their voices, but he was certain that Daphne and Tracey already had their wands out, pointed at the rest of Malfoy's cronies. His friends weren't the useless wastes of space Malfoy's were.

"Then the child should stay in his place." Blaise cautioned. "For the next time we'll see if your blood is as pure as you claim, first hand. Are we clear, Malfoy?"

The terrified Slytherin nodded once, his eyes leaking tears from the pain his athame caused his throat and the broken nose that was bleeding and discolored. He wouldn't embarrass the boy further, his point was made.

"I'm pleased we could come to an accord."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FSFSFS

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When the door to the bathroom slammed open, it was all Harry could do not to cringe in annoyance because he just knew whatever was wrong was coming in his direction. It would be the perfect ending for the day from hell. He expected the drama from Snape in potions class, not even Hermione had been able to deflect the enormous loss of thirty house points but he hadn't made much of the issue as it would be possible to regain them in DADA later during the day.

Having topped off the edge of his temper Sunday in the infirmary, he was able to ignore Snape's snide comments about his person, though strangely enough Snape's words were regulated only toward him and not any of the dead. Evidently Dumbledore told Leo about his loss of control and the result was having his ass handed to him for two hours, proving just how far he still had to go if he was to ever defeat Voldemort. Yet even that he could handle, as Leo wasn't being malicious, merely proving how important it was for him to remain in control, especially when using his magic.

Professor Vector, Septima, he amended, for the woman had taken to thumping him in the forehead when called her otherwise, was also on his case for his lack of progress in learning the runes she designated. Dumbledore must have been in contact with her, for she had left him with the vague portent of _'having something to deal with those dreams of yours'_ but she needed to do a spot of research first. Whatever it was had to be better than Snape peeling open his head each night and have a go.

Detention wasn't so bad, mindless chores were second nature to him after all his years with the Dursleys and after facing Voldemort, Death Eaters, and even his Uncle Vernon, there wasn't much Filch could say or do that was very frightening. He had already made plans with Neville to transfer their study sessions to Saturday mornings, now he had to find a way to contact Blaise to let him know he wouldn't be able to meet him on Tuesdays and Thursdays as planned unless he was willing to sneak out after curfew.

All he had wanted at the end of such a horrid day was a long shower and a night's rest without interruption or nightmares.

Yes, and if wishes were hippogriffs, arseholes like Malfoy would ride.

"Harry are you in here?"

'Ron', he sighed to himself. What in Merlin's name was wrong now? "I'm in here, just give me a minute." He scrubbed a bit more water from his hair, laying the towel across his shoulders, then wrapped a larger one around his waist making his way to the front of the room.

Ron leaned against a sink, face flushed with anger and clutched in his grip a piece of golden parchment that looked very familiar. "What's the problem?" He asked, placing his glasses back on, so at least he would be able to see while being fussed at.

"This! This is the problem! What is this!"

Dark brows raised as the crumpled parchment was practically shoved in his face. Harry carefully took the paper from his best friend, unrolling it to read.

"In honour of her 17th birthday, the friends of Hermione Jean Granger request the pleasure of your presence to join us in celebration in a Coming of Age Ceremony on September seventeenth nineteen hundred and ninety-six at eight o'clock in the evening. Please tap your wand against parchment to RSVP and receive further directions."

He had written the least formal of the invitation styles suggested in The Curious Half-Blood book, so he wouldn't offend anyone and from what he read, he didn't think that was the cause of Ron's hostility. He also had chosen regular parchment and charmed it with a nice golden sheen and red ribbon, nice and Gryffindor neutral. The edges of the invitation were trimmed with books, 'Mione's favorite things, so that wasn't offensive.

"I don't understand what the problem is?"

"That!" he waved a wild hand, eyes widening with fury. "Why would you do that!"

"Do what?" He asked feeling a bit stupid for not understanding what the problem was. After the day from hell his brain wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.

"That party thing! You have to cancel it! Just how many of those bloody things have you sent out anyway?"

"Twenty-Five, I believe. Why do you need me to cancel the party for Hermione? I thought you said you hadn't made any special plans for her birthday, I never would have sent out invitations if I knew you were going to change your mind."

"I haven't made special plans."

"Then what's the problem with the two of us throwing her a party. Isn't turning seventeen in the Wizarding world of some importance?"

"Well, yes," Ron frowned, not pleased with the conversation still.

"So why would you want me to cancel?"

"She's my girlfriend you know!" He shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

"And I already know that mate, I've had the pleasure of watching the two of you attached to each other's face for the past three weeks now."

"So, I'm supposed to be the one throwing her parties, not you."

"So why didn't you," Harry lifted a shoulder, still not knowing where Ron was going with all this. Then the answer slapped him in the face rather solidly. "You're angry that I thought of the party instead of you?"

"You know I couldn't afford to do something like this for 'Mione, so how do you think it feels when you come along and do this?"

"The party if from us both, Ron." He was starting to hate these types of conversations with his best friend.

"Yeah but you're paying for it!"

"I'm paying for her gifts! That's it. I asked the house elves if they would donate food, the Room of Requirement will provide decorations and Leo is loaning me his Wizarding wireless for music."

Harry didn't think it possible for Ron to turn a shade redder but he supposed guilt would do that. "You still shouldn't have done it."

"And why not Ron, Hermione is my best friend! Why shouldn't I want to celebrate her birthday with her? This wasn't even about you! You hadn't made plans and I thought of the party first, so I thought it would be nice if we, as her best friends, gave her a party. Why must you always make it seem like I'm trying to insult you?"

"I wasn't." Though even Ron had to realize the lie for what it was. "You didn't even tell me about, just sent out these invitations."

"In case you've forgotten, I was a little busy yesterday, you know with Voldemort in my head. Then Hermione was around and I couldn't tell you in front of her. And after dinner the two of you went off snogging, so how could I? Then there were classes today and detention. Do you see my point here yet?"

"Could have passed me a note during class or something." But they both knew Ron was just making excuses now.

"You didn't even ask me what was going on, you just stormed in here like a rampaging dragon tossing around demands and insults without even considering how I might feel about your behavior."

He looked down at the invitation that he had taken such joy in creating, looking forward to celebrating Hermione's day. Now those emotions tasted like ash in his mouth. It had taken a hell of a lot of convincing on his part to get Dumbledore to even allow him to miss detention that night so he could give this party and now he had a feeling Ron was going to ruin the entire night with his bad attitude.

"You need to grow up, Ron." He frowned, feeling disappointed in his best friend, and tossed the parchment back at him before walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First, let me thank you all for such great reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I wasn't going to address Frank's review, because everyone is entitled to their own opinion and when a writer puts their work in a public venue, they expect to take the good and the bad and do with them as they will. I appreciate both the good and the bad. 
> 
> However, (yes, there is a however) while this story is OC for many of the characters, as I believe that's what fanfiction at it's essence is, I don't think I've gone into the realm of Superfanfiction. As an athlete, the very basic running and calisthenics that I've had Leo give Harry to do can do nothing but improve his heath, fitness as well as take advantage of his natural speed and reaction responses. (There is more in future chapters)As far as the different types of fighting that I mentioned, I in no way meant to imply that I intended to make Harry an expert. It takes years of training for that, it would be ridiculous to believe he could do so in a matter of months. If I did, I should probably go back and do some editing.
> 
> I also can't understand how eating healthy will take away from Harry's natural abilities but to each his own.
> 
> There are parts of this fic that are OOC but I do believe they are conveyed in a realistic way, as much as a fantasy fanfiction can be realistic. Any original ideas, I've tried to find a basis in canon and other mythology in this genre. I personally believe that a writer should bend rules and take chances when telling a story, especially in fanfiction. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't but if a writer doesn't take that risk in the first place, they will never know what they could have achieved with their story.
> 
> Either way, again, I thank you all for taking the time to read my story and I hope you continue to enjoy it. Or not, if that's the case.


	9. Chapter 9

The air so high up in the astronomy tower was crisp and cold, perfect for clearing the remaining anger from Harry's head but it still left him with his thoughts. It was barely the third week of school and yet so much had changed and he wasn't sure what to do with those changes. New professors and learning new things were adjustments he didn't mind as they would help him survive the War.

Being introduced to the traditions of the Wizarding world was even better, finally he was feeling more connected to his magic. Granted there was still so much he didn't know, and only so much he could learn on his own and from the book Tracey had given him but he wasn't quite ready to reach out for help. He didn't know if his reasoning was simply restraint or the way he had grown up. The Dursley's didn't encourage him to seek knowledge or ask questions and there were so many people watching his every move he didn't want to give more fodder for the gossipmongers.

He didn't like the strain between him and his friends or the disappointment whenever he thought of Dumbledore. It seemed like there was a vast distance between them now. Hermione and Ron were dating and he wasn't apart of that, couldn't be. No matter what either of them said, it altered the dynamics of their relationship. There were secrets he wanted to share with them, but he wasn't ready for their reactions. Hermione would want to examine and prod until she could place things into their proper categories that she could understand. Ron would offer his support but there would be a layer of envy and anger beneath the surface that would eventually explode just as he had tonight about Hermione's birthday party.

His trust in Dumbledore was shaken, never before would he have considered yelling at the Headmaster the way he had the other day. He just couldn't tolerate being treated like a child with no opinions or being forced into choices he would never make. Especially when they expected him to be a man in the very next moment and destroy the most powerful Dark Lord in the history of the Wizarding world. Dumbledore couldn't have it both ways and not expect him to protest. As matters stood, the choice was out of his hands regardless, as Voldemort was going to keep coming for him until one of them was dead.

There was no resolution and for the moment all he could do was set the matters to the side and wait to see how the rest of the year would unfold but that didn't mean he wasn't tired of it all.

_"Meow."_

Harry glanced over at the feline greeting and felt a smile curve his lips. "Nefertiti. What are you doing up here this time of night?" He moved his arm so the Mau could climb into his lap. She stretched briefly before settling down, nudging his hand for a rub. "Of course your majesty, I did say you were welcome at any time."

"Does that only apply to Nefertiti, or am I welcome as well?"

Blaise's deep silken tone matched the composed expression on his handsome face. He should have been startled to find himself no longer alone. "You move quietly, I didn't even hear you."

"I think maybe you were very deep in thought," Blaise offered instead, making his way from the staircase to where he sat at the edge of the tower with his feet hanging over the side. "Should I leave you to them?"

"No," he answered immediately, gesturing for Blaise to join him. "I'm probably better off not spending too much time inside my head."

"Inner scrutiny does tend to lead to melancholy." Blaise took his time unbuttoning the bottom of his cloak before joining him. "But this is a good place to come and think. Quiet. Open to the vastness of the night sky. It can leave you feeling rather small in the grand scheme of the universe. Sometimes I need that when I begin to take myself too seriously."

Harry watched him, noting the way the shadows played across the Slytherin's features. The slope of his nose, skin pulled taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones, the way he held his head high with pride. He was so different from most of the other boys their age, and that only made him more interesting.

"So, Harry, what brings you up here tonight?"

"I guess I wanted to talk with my godfather," he sighed, looking back up into the sky. "You can't see it from here very well," he paused pointing over the Forbidden Forest in the direction of London to the brightest star in the sky. "The Canis Major constellation and the most brilliant star is Sirius. That was his name, Sirius Black." He managed a small smile in memory, "My godfather's family, the Blacks, they had a habit of naming their children after constellations. He was the best of them all and I suppose that star up there only agrees with me."

"The dog star," Blaise murmured before turning his dark intense gaze to focus on his face.

"I suppose you heard the rumors about him, how he betrayed my parents to Voldemort."

"Harry, most of Slytherin knew the truth of Sirius Black. Malfoy has no concept of the word discretion."

"His father would know, wouldn't he?" Harry spat out, remembering Lucius Malfoy's presence at Voldemort's resurrection, at the Department of Mysteries. "And Malfoy would waste no time preening about knowing a truth concerning anything that would hurt me."

"He does seem to hate you."

"Draco Malfoy has no concept of what true hatred is. He's a spoiled arrogant bully and he annoys the hell out of me."

Blaise quirked his eyebrow questioningly, "So you don't feel the same?"

"In the bigger picture, with everyone who wants to kill me, Malfoy rates up there with a bothersome housefly. You swat those away and move on."

"So what happened to your godfather?"

He couldn't give Blaise all the information about last year, especially not his connection to Voldemort, so he gave him the general idea; being tricked into going to the Ministry, the Death Eaters lying in wait, and Bellatrix firing the curse at Sirius. The veil.

"When he fell into the veil, I wanted to go with him." His voice broke on the words because it was the first time he had actually said them aloud. "In that moment, I didn't care about my friends, the Wizarding world, Voldemort, none of it. In that moment nothing else mattered to me but Sirius slipping away. If I could have grabbed hold of him, I would have followed him and every thing else be damned."

His glaze clouded with the tears he normally would have pushed aside, but this time he didn't bother, feeling them trail down the side of his face. The wild grief that usually ripped through him at the thought of Sirius wasn't so strong but was more like an old would that ached on a rainy day. The cat in his lap seemed to sense his feelings, purring as she rose onto her hind legs to offer a lick against his jaw in sympathy.

A hand came down over his, fingers long and slightly calloused, and he was filled with feelings of warmth and protection that for once he didn't bother to question. He simply accepted.

"I won't insult you by trying to make you believe it's not your fault. I'm sure you've heard that before. No matter how you were manipulated, you'll always feel at least partly responsible."

"I have to live with that," he spoke up after regaining control of his emotions. "The guilt of how it's partly my fault that my godfather died. But I think what's worse sometimes is how I would have simply given up. I wonder if my parents or Sirius would be ashamed."

"My mother would say there is nothing I could ever do that would make her stop loving me. I'm pretty sure most parents feel that way about their children, if they're good parents. Considering your godfather came after you that night regardless of the threat to himself, I think he loved you very much. He would never be ashamed of you Harry."

"It probably sounds strange, that I would give up so much for someone I hadn't known long. We didn't meet again until third year when he escaped Azkaban and then he was on the run from the Ministry most of fourth year. But that's not true. There was something inside of me that remembered Sirius. I don't know if it was a memory or the bond from being my godfather but I recognized Sirius.

"The Weasley's are great and they have done everything to make me feel welcome in their home and a part of their family. But at the end of the day, they're _not_ my family. A part of me always feels like an outsider and it isn't anything they've done, it's just how I feel."

He needed for Blaise to understand because these weren't things he could ever say to Ron or even Hermione. These were private, painful thoughts that would hurt feelings and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he needed someone to understand and hoped that maybe that person could be Blaise.

"Ron and Hermione don't really understand and I hope they never have to. I can't say they have never experienced death but they don't know what it means to be alone. With Sirius, I felt like I could finally have a family of my own. Maybe even a small piece of my parents because they chose Sirius to take care of me if something should happen to them."

Harry looked from the hands that lay clenched together in his lap, up into dark fathomless eyes, throat aching with despair. "And now that's all gone and some days I don't know how to bear it."

A muscle flicked in Blaise's jaw just as he reached out, his fingers cool as they brushed along the side of his face removing the remaining wetness of his tears. Harry frowned as he couldn't remember anyone ever touching him with such care. Tingling warmth unfolded in the pit of his stomach, becoming familiar, stronger, each time he experienced it. From nowhere came a yearning, it caught in his chest making his heart hammer against his ribs. There was something in Blaise's expression that he just couldn't understand, so disconcerted, he forced himself to look away biting his lip, with nerves.

"I don't know why I'm bothering you with all this."

The hand on his face slipped away but the other in his lap held on for a moment longer before giving a gentle squeeze and moving away. "Maybe because I didn't know him, so there are no expectations. Or because I'm not invested the same way your friends are, so you have no reason to hide your feelings from me."

"Maybe," Harry hedged, because he didn't know if he ever would have shared this with Hermione and Ron. So what made Blaise different?

"You never did say why you needed to talk to Sirius."

Harry gave Blaise a grateful grin, as he needed to set aside his grief again, but this time it was a little easier. Maybe one day he would be able to think of Sirius and only remember the good things and not everything he had lost. "Ron is angry with me because I decided to give Hermione a coming of age ceremony this Thursday."

Blaise couldn't hold back a look of surprise at Harry's words. Harry didn't say a birthday party; he said a coming of age ceremony, which in regards to the old ways meant very different things. He was pleased to hear him say it that way because it meant Harry didn't simply push Tracey's book aside but was reading it. Thinking about the information.

He had thought perhaps Harry was reading the book, given that morning he came down to breakfast looking a great deal neater than his usual appearance. A discrete glance told him after Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, he had gave the morning blessing. He hadn't wanted to get his hopes up but so far Harry had come down alone early each morning for breakfast in the same manner. It was different from openly practicing the old traditions but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

Now he wanted to perform a coming of age ceremony for Granger. He wondered who all Harry would invite and wished he could be there. The magic released was bound to be stunning to witness.

"I don't believe the Weasleys practice the old ways Harry," he offered tentatively, to see how Harry would react. "So perhaps he doesn't understand and just believes it to be a regular party."

"But it's not the party itself he has a problem with, it's the money involved. It's been an issue with us a lot lately. I thought it was better last year but it can't be if he's this sensitive about me doing this. He can't be worried that I like Hermione because that's just ridiculous, she's like a sister."

"It's difficult coming from a pureblood family without the resources most families have."

"I know the Weasleys aren't exactly wealthy but I just don't understand. He has parents who love him. Brothers and a sister who would walk through fire for him. I would give anything to have a normal life that he has."

"Ron didn't grow up the way you did Harry. You see a loving family, a girlfriend, all the so called normal things you would love to have. Most people want to be anything but normal. For most people normal is boring, they live normal everyday."

"But he knows what my life is like, why would he want that?"

Blaise had to laugh at the incredulous expression on Harry's face. From his point of view his life probably was horrible but an outsider wouldn't see things that way. "You're a pretty hard act to follow. Smart, attractive, famous. Youngest seeker in a century who can do things on a broom that makes most quidditch players envious. Wealthy, powerful. You have the ear of Professor Dumbledore who is notably one of most powerful wizards of our time."

"And I'm an orphan with relatives who hate the very thought of me and I have a madman trying to kill me. The press alternately praise and revile me and the people around me tend to end up in grave danger."

"You can't have the yin without the yang," he shrugged benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child.

Humor bubbled in Harry's vibrant gaze, his laughter buoyant and fully alive as it echoed through the empty tower. It made his already handsome face so much more beautiful, it was all he could do not to slide his fingers along the inviting skin again. This was better than the grief that seemed to squeeze the joy from his heart. The more time he spent with Harry the more he became extremely conscious of his intensifying feelings.

"If only it were so simple. You never did say what brought you out here tonight, its after curfew so you could get detention if you're caught. But I am appreciative of the company."

"Malfoy posturing."

Harry grunted, shifting Nefertiti in his lap before rubbing her again in long graceful strokes across her back that started her loud rumbling purr of pleasure. Blaise never thought he would ever be envious of his familiar.

"What happened? I mean, if you don't mind me asking what happened." Harry glanced up timidly at him from beneath the long strands of hair that covered his face. It was a strangely appealing look, as it made his mouth slightly pouty and inviting.

"He came into the common room crowing about you. 'Potter's snapped.' You have noticed the whispering about you, I hope."

"They whisper everyday, Blaise. I've learned to ignore it for the most part."

"Mature of you."

"Self interest mostly. There were only so many times my feelings could be hurt before I realized that the only person who can allow them to hurt me, is me. I still don't like it but I can't stop them. I can stop caring what they think."

"That's usually my way of dealing with gossip. My name isn't as popular as yours but there are still those who have no life and are vicious." He couldn't help but think of his mother and how she dealt with the murmurs about her. She had taught him to rise above such pettiness and not let it affect him.

"So what did Malfoy do?"

"And you know it was Malfoy, how?"

"It's always Malfoy," Harry's expression held a note of teasing. "He hasn't been much of a nuisance this year but I figured it was due to his father's imprisonment in Azkaban. I don't trust Malfoy though, so I would be surprised if he's planning something."

"He is obvious isn't he?"

"Yes, no Slytherin cunning there." Harry chuckled unknowingly echoing his thoughts from before his altercation. "So?"

"He insulted my mother."

"One of his more unoriginal moves."

"I know. Obvious, but I don't tolerate insults to my mother or my family. So I kicked his narrow ass."

That brought forth a completely different laughter, devious really, and seductive in a way he doubted Harry would appreciate. Blaise on the other hand, had no problem with a not so pure minded Harry Potter.

"Wish I could have seen it. So, tell me something new about Blaise Zabini." Harry's grin was affectionate and contagious, drawing forth a small answering one. "I know you want to attain your Mastery in Ancient Runes after Hogwarts and I know you enjoyed Italy this summer. I also know you don't mind wagering obscene amounts of galleons."

"What would you like to know Harry?"

"Tell me something about your family."

"My mother and father's marriage was arranged by their parents. It was a very excellent match. We originate from a very small city on the northern coast of Morocco where most of the magical families there can trace their heritage back to the migration from the ancient Berber Kingdom of Numidia. Eventually many of the families relocated to the United Kingdom where we have resided for the past two hundred years. The Fakhir and the Zabini families have been friends for many years, so when it was time for my mother to marry, it made sense for their eldest daughter to marry the eldest son."

"But what about love?" His face clouded with confusion, "It doesn't seem right to force them to marry when they didn't love each other."

"My father wasn't well, Harry. Their marriage was never destined to last longer than the time it took to create me. A Zabini heir. I was very fortunate that my parents were friends who grew to care for each other and my mother cherished my birth."

"I can't imagine marrying someone I didn't love."

"And I can't imagine marrying someone my family didn't approve of. We're not all like the Weasleys." He softened the rebuke with a smile and that seemed to relax the tension in Harry. "My Grandfather took charge of my rearing, as heir to the Zabini house. He is a proud man but loves his family. I learned much from him."

"I don't think I'd know what to do with a family of my own truthfully. I don't want you to think I was casting judgment on your family because of what I said."

"It's fine Harry. Only the more traditional families still hold to betrothal contracts in the Wizarding world. I'm not expected to uphold one. I made that clear to Papa this past year when I turned sixteen. I'm expected to have an heir and I want children of my own but I'm in no hurry to have them. There is plenty of time."

"Time," Harry sighed, "Is probably not on my side. I'm the last Potter; at least that's what Dumbledore told me."

It was an opening he could not allow to pass. "If you're head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, why aren't you wearing your ring?"


	10. Chapter 10

No.

No. It just wasn't possible.

Blaise had to be mistaken. There was no way he was the head of; he stopped in the middle of the thought shaking his head in denial. He was sixteen for Merlin's sake; someone would have mentioned this by now. His friends. Sirius. Remus. Professor Dumbledore. Hell, even Snape wouldn't have been able to hold a spiteful comment back.

There was only one thought he kept returning to. Why would Blaise lie? Why would he make up such an elaborate lie when it could be so easily confirmed? That simple reason caused a knot of rage and sadness to twist in his chest. How much more would he be expected to endure before it became too much? How many secrets and lies would he be forced to unravel before his life became his own?

Sirus. The idea that his godfather had kept something so important from him was inconceivable. Sirius was the one who would try to tell him what was going on before some adult came along and silenced him, claiming Harry too young to know things. Things that concerned him. Things that affected his life.

Damn it! Everyone's good intentions would get him killed.

This was betrayal, plain and simple. For anyone to purposely keep information about his family away from him when he had so precious little remaining of his parents was tantamount to betrayal.

He burst into the Gryffindor boys' dorm, heedless of the noise he was making. As he stalked over to his bed, he tried to think of a way to find out the truth without asking anyone. If he went to Hermione, she would suggest he go right to Dumbledore and the last thing he wanted was to hear the Headmaster say he kept this information from him so that he could have a childhood, or some other such nonsense. Ron's jealousy was approaching an all time high and given his attitude during fourth year that was saying something. His best friend would not handle Ancient and Noble house of Potter discussions at all.

How could he trust a word from their mouths? How could he trust anyone's word ever again?

Gringotts, he reasoned, sitting down on his bed. He closed his eyes, wiping hands that trembled with despair down his face. If Gringotts was in charge of the vault his parents opened for him, surely they would be able to tell him more about his family history. It wasn't about money; he didn't give a damn about money. It was his history. Knowledge that he had been starved for all of his life and it dropped into his lap tonight by mere chance. What if he hadn't asked the questions that lead Blaise to make his statement about the Potter ring? Would he gone on forever ignorant?

The Goblins certainly had no reason to lie and if they didn't have information they would at least be able to confirm if there was an Ancient and Noble House of Potter.

"Why does everything have to happen to me?" he whispered, gripping the tangled strands of his hair and tugging in frustration. How many times would his world be shattered and force him to pull it back together again? "Why can't things be simple for once?"

When he opened his eyes, they fell upon the green book sitting tucked away in his bookcase. Casting a furtive glance around the room, he quickly snatched it out before spelling his curtains closed and casting a locking and silencing charm. He hadn't had the opportunity to search for the information on Sirius and the Black family but this was more important.

"Lumos." Pale light illuminated the darkened area before he leaned back against his headboard with the book sitting in his lap.

"If I do this everything changes," he said aloud, needing to hear the confirmation of the step he was contemplating taking. He would always be on guard, wondering who was lying to him and who he could truly trust.

Could he cast this knowledge aside and continue on ignorant of his family to keep the people in his life now? Then he felt shame, for how could even consider casting aside his heritage. His family, for Merlin's sake. Even if he were the only Potter alive, his family still deserved acknowledgement. Hadn't he sacrificed enough for the Wizarding world?

Decision made, he opened the book to the contents page as Tracey explained in her note, and then tapped his wand once. "Ancient and Noble Houses," his voice shook on the last word. As the pages began to turn, he drew in a shaky breath. Upon reaching the middle it stopped, pages blank, before words began to bleed onto the page just like in Riddle's diary.

"Of the original thirteen Ancient and Noble Houses of the United Kingdom's Wizarding world, there remain only four active Lords, two trustees hold titles until heir is appointed and three heirs apparent. The title for the House of Black is still in question, as there are only two scions in line to succession. The other lines are now extinct."

There was more information, most of it he barely understood, such as the seats in Wizagamot that Lords were entitled to but unable to claim until their twenty-first birthday. In most cases, a trustee was designated pending the heir reaches majority.

It seemed the houses of Bones and Greengrass were being held in trust and he wondered how that made Susan and Daphne feel. It seemed unfair they couldn't hold the title simply because they were women. He turned the page and found the listing for the active Lords. It wasn't exactly a surprise to see Malfoy or Lestrange; he expected to see some of the Death Eaters on the list, as Ancient and Noble was synonymous with pure blood. He was surprised to see Ernie MacMillan, though he did tend to brag about his family. It was the next line that made his heart stop.

"Harrigan James Potter. Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Roarke, Honorable Peer of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

None of this was making sense. "Who the hell am I?"

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FSFSFS

 

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"Good morning Harry. How may I help you today?"

Harry forced himself to take deep breaths remembering the last time he was in this office and how destructive his magic became when he lost control. It wasn't the image he wanted to portray during this confrontation. Pissed off teenager would get him no where. Dumbledore would look at him, the twinklings in his blue eyes diminished slightly, and still treat him like the eleven year old boy who entered Hogwarts starved and abused and desperate to belong.

No, he had every right to be furious.

Dumbledore had promised not to keep things from him any longer. So, had he simply forgotten? He was an old man but Dumbledore had a mind like a steel trap, that excuse would be pathetic and ignoble.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry nodded once, resisting the urge to check his appearance again as he had at the gargoyle before entering. It had been difficult to go about his normal morning routine. Yet he forced himself and was grateful for it. The strenuous exercise had taken the edge off his anger, helping to clear his head so he could think rationally. Dressing in the neat uniform and straightening his hair bolstered his confidence. He might not be Dumbledore's peer but he would demand respect from the man.

"Sir, I found some rather disgruntling information yesterday and I was hoping you might be able to shed light upon the subject."

"Of course, my boy. If I may be of service." He smiled genially, folding his hands atop his desk. Happy that Harry had come to him for help as perhaps a gesture of clemency for their current acrimony. "Now what has you so troubled?"

Reaching into his rucksack, Harry removed the slip of folded parchment where he had written down the titles from the Curious Half-Blood book. He placed it on the desk and pushed it toward Dumbledore without saying a word.

Harry could tell when the Headmaster understood why he was here this morning. The wizard's tells weren't obvious unless you were searching hard enough for a reaction. Wrinkled fingers clenched briefly upon the parchment. Then a frown formed between his brows with lines bracketing his mouth.

"Where did you get this Harry?"

"I don't believe it matters where I obtained the information. What matters is whether or not there is any truth to it and if so, why wasn't I told!"

"Harry."

"Harrigan," he spat, his lip curling with growing annoyance. "I believe that is my name, though I always thought it was Harry. Did you know for the first five years of my life, I had no real idea what my name was? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always called me boy. 'Boy, pick up that mess.' Or, 'Boy, go to your cupboard.' It wasn't until I was enrolled in school that I found out the name Harry actually belonged to me and not some other boy they knew."

"Harry, I know-"

"You know? You know shite, so please don't insult me that way Professor. If nothing else respect that this is something you don't know."

"Of course. I was simply going to say that I understood your life with your mother's sister was difficult."

"Because most adults are capable of recognizing the signs of abuse," Harry pointed out.

"Did they," Dumbledore paused, probably not knowing if he should continue or if he wanted to know the answer.

"Beat me, you mean?" Harry scoffed. "Other than the occasional swat to the head, or if I really did something to embarrass them, something freakish, and earned my self licks from Vernon's belt? They could barely stand to be in the same room with me, why would they take the time to beat me? It would be more attention than they felt I deserved."

"I'm so sorry Harry. I had no idea.

"No, because you stuck me with those people and left me there with no one to check and make sure I had things like food or clothes. Let alone love and affection."

"It was for your protection. The blood wards would keep any remaining Death Eaters who would do you harm away."

"And I have accepted that. What I don't understand is what's on that paper. Why wouldn't you tell me something so important?"

"Sit down Harry."

"I-"

"Please, sit down." The Headmaster's voice was stern and brooked no argument.

He wanted to protest, to demand answers, to refuse to follow any command from this man until he explained himself but that would imply he was still behaving as a child. So he yielded the point to Dumbledore and sat in the chair across from him. But he took his time, settling the bag beside the chair, straightening his sweater and pants until he was comfortable.

When he inclined his head to the Headmaster to begin, he received a brief nod in return of understanding before the wizard spoke again.

"I have made mistakes with you Harry. More than should be forgiven, most likely. When you arrived in the Wizarding world you were just as knowledgeable as a muggle-born and I decided to allow you to remain that way unless you began to search for information."

"Information I wouldn't have known existed. I realize that," Harry agreed. "The question is why?"

"I wanted you to see the wonder of our world. To see its beauty before you were exposed to its ugliness."

The usual reaction would be for him to explode but he was trying to think before he spoke these days. The beauty of the Wizarding world, he pondered Dumbledore's words slowly and carefully. The beauty before the ugliness. Why would he need to learn to appreciate it?

Dumbledore wanted him to care about the Wizarding world.

To place importance upon it.

So that when Voldemort returned, he would be willing to fight for it.

"It still doesn't explain why you would keep my heritage from me. My family."

"The burdens of carrying the mantle of an Ancient and Noble House are heavy, Harry. I thought to spare you those responsibilities until you were older."

"And spring them upon me after someone else's death," he couldn't help that bit of sarcasm. "I trusted you to help me, to guide me, and you abused that trust."

The word abuse didn't sit well with the older man, obviously, considering their previous words; the comparison to his relatives must be repugnant. "What about Sirius and Remus? Did you forbid them from telling me?"

"No. Sirius did wonder," Dumbledore admitted. "He mentioned speaking to you over the winter break about the house of Black and that you had no idea what he was talking about. He wanted to know why you dressed so shabbily. Why you weren't wearing the Potter ring."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That you chose not to wear the ring because you were having difficulties with Mr. Weasley the year before and did not want to exacerbate the situation further."

"A good lie," Harry nodded. "One that sounds like something I would do, so Sirius wouldn't question it. He would remember how Ron behaved at the beginning of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and then he would recall how Remus felt about being a werewolf during their school years and use those memories as a comparison."

Everyone probably believed he knew, Harry realized. They weren't keeping things from him. And that was worse because people thought he didn't care about his heritage, his family, to such an extent that he didn't acknowledge his place as the head of his family.

If he had ever thought he understood Albus Dumbledore, he was greatly mistaken. This wasn't the first lie, no the man had been withholding information from him for years. He shouldn't feel so betrayed, so utterly shaken. But he was. His magic bubbled and seethed within him, seeking a way to express his fury. It meant their little meeting had to come to an end. He didn't want to hurt Dumbledore; he just didn't want to be in the man's presence any longer.

"Do you have my ring?"

He had to know. Part of him hoped Dumbledore's betrayal didn't run that deep. Wanting to protect the Wizarding world could be considered honorable. It ran roughshod all over his feelings, but the Headmaster couldn't consider the needs of one over so many. Theft however would have to be addressed because it wouldn't be tolerated.

"No, I don't." He shook his head knowing he had lost a great deal of Harry's trust. "The Potter vaults aren't accessible by anyone other than a member of your family."

"Vaults?" He whispered remembering his first year. The sheer astonishment of owning so many galleons when he had gone without all of his life.

"Yes. The vault available to you is your trust vault." Dumbledore explained. "you will have to speak with one of the goblins at Gringotts about the remainder of your assets, Harry, as I'm not privileged with that information. I do know you wouldn't have been able to access those vaults until your 16th birthday."

Truth or lie. Harry was saddened to admit he could not tell. It would be a convenient lie. Perhaps the Headmaster had every intention of telling him. After he defeated Voldemort. Couldn't have Harry's attention diverted. Must keep Harry focused on what truly matters. A long dead family and heritage wasn't as important as the rest of the Wizarding world.

"If I contact Gringotts, would it be possible for me to go to London and speak with them?"

"Your training is at a crucial time. With Voldemort's recovery and amassing allies, we have to focus on strengthening your abilities for when you face him again."

"In other words, no." He closed his eyes to contain himself. "Would it be possible to meet with someone here at Hogwarts if the goblins are agreeable?"

"This-"

"I'm not letting this go, so you can stop trying to convince me. You either agree to a meeting here or I'll find a way to London on my own."

"You would risk the Wizarding world for material things Harry? Things that will be waiting for you until a later time when arrangements could be made for you to go safely to Gringotts?"

"Guilt from a man who has lied to me really isn't the right move you should be making," Harry said. "As the Wizarding world hasn't been very kind to me, You should want me to find a connection to make me care, not alienate me even more."

He could understand the man's objections, so he would be the bigger individual and compromise. "However, I do see your point. So, if the goblins don't agree to a meeting here at Hogwarts, I'll consent to wait until winter break to visit Gringotts so that proper arrangements can be made." He didn't want to place Order members in danger out searching for him because he had run off, but he needed Dumbledore to understand he was serious.

"That will have to suffice," Dumbledore quietly agreed.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Is there anything else I can do for you Harry?"

"No, I'm fine, Sir. I should head down to breakfast."

Albus Dumbledore had done quite enough for him already.

FSFSFS

By thetime he made it down, the Great Hall was full. He wouldn't have time for a complete breakfast and food wouldn't sit well on his angry stomach anyway but he would eat because he had promised Leo he would take care of himself. His friends were already seated in their normal places at the Gryffindor table when he arrived.

"I thought perhaps we had missed you entirely this morning," Hermione smiled up from the Arithmancy book she was studying while finishing her breakfast. She looked him over briefly, a small frown of concern tightening her lips. "Where were you? Is something wrong?"

"I had to see Dumbledore this morning," he paused at his seat across from her, took a deep breath and then sat down.

"Another vision?"

That would be the easy way to get out of explaining things but he found his own secrets distasteful after dealing with the Headmasters. "No, just something personal that I needed to speak with him about." His tone said he wasn't going to say more and he hoped she accepted it. Another argument wasn't something he looked forward to. Ron was already sitting right next to her and ignoring him completely.

"Alright then," she smiled briefly before returning to her meal.

Harry closed his eyes, clearing his thoughts, and began intoning the morning blessing. Embracing the stir of his magic. Rejoicing in this connection and how it seemed not only to rejuvenate him so that he was prepared for the day but it also centered him, calmed his anger and was a balm to his aching soul.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed Neville's gaze focused on him. He nodded once in recognition, seeing Neville's expression of amazement and pleasure. Perhaps tomorrow they could perform the rite together so Neville wouldn't feel he had to hide any longer.

Neville's gaze wasn't the only Gryffindor watching him. Not that he cared. Someone was always watching him it seemed.

"What was that?" Ginny finally spoke up from her place on the other side of Hermione.

"It's just a blessing," he explained then began gathering his meal. He found he was hungry now and he only had a few minutes before he had to depart for class.

"And when did you start doing that?"

Ginny sounded a lot like her mother with that insistent tone. He loved Molly Weasley and could appreciate the concerned mothering to her own children. Directing that attitude to someone who had spent most of his life taking are of himself was a mistake. For Ginny, who was a year younger, to address him in such a way, as if she had every right, wasn't the way she should go about seeking answers from him. Not if she wanted to continue being his friend. He could accept Hermione's mothering, it was merely her way of expressing herself at times and she did it because she loved him. Ginny wasn't Hermione.

"He's changed," Ron spoke for the first time, before Harry could politely tell Ginny to mind her own business. "All these special classes and that exercise rot. Prancing around looking like Malfoy, he's not acting like the Harry we know."

"Ron you sound foolish," Hermione shook her head in exasperation. Harry could tell the same question Ginny posed had been seconds from her own lips. "Harry hasn't changed just because he decided to apply himself in class or attire himself properly."

Of course her defense wouldn't sit well with her boyfriend. "Sure, you always take up for Harry."

"I didn't realize I needed to defend Harry from his best friend." Her tone was coolly disapproving. "Have the two of you been arguing?"

"Yes."

"No."

They both answered at the same time causing Hermione to sigh tiredly. "Which is it now?"

Harry stared at Ron, raising brows as if to say, 'you explain.' When the redhead said nothing, Harry rolled his eyes and turned to her. "We're having a disagreement about you." After wiping his hands on a napkin, he reached into his rucksack until he found an extra invitation and passed it across the table to her.

"Wanted this to be a bit of a surprise but seeing as Ron and I aren't," he stopped, dipping his head slightly. "Never mind. That's the cause of the argument."

Hermione opened the invitation, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping before she placed a hand over her mouth. "The two of you were planning a birthday party for me?"

"A Coming of Age ceremony," he clarified but he could see she didn't quite see the difference. A quick glance around the Gryffindor table told him that Neville and shockingly enough Pavarti did. "But yes, Ron and I were planning a celebration for you on Thursday."

She squealed with excitement.

Straight laced, bookworm, rule abiding, Hermione Granger, squealed happily before throwing her arms around Ron's neck and covering his cheek with kisses. "Oh thank you, thank you," she managed in between kisses. "Thank you so much."

Ron's skin flushed so red, the freckles on his face could barely be discerned. A crooked smile of pleasure curved across his face as he returned the enthusiastic hug. "Well, it was nothing," Ron stammered with embarrassment though everyone could clearly see he was enjoying his girlfriend's attention.

"No, it's wonderful and thoughtful. Thank you," she leaned back kissing Ron briefly on the lips, and then turned to face him. "Thank you both."

"It's no problem," Harry smiled, a glint of humor returning at his best friend's blatant delight.

"So why were you two fighting then?"

Ron's eyes widened with guilt, realizing he had just taken credit for the very party he had argued against having. He threw an anxious glance at him and Harry sighed before looked away.

"Just a disagreement on whether or not you would enjoy a chocolate cake or a fruit filled one."

"Oh fruit obviously. Much better than the sweetness of chocolate," she grinned mischievously at them.

"Just what Ron was saying," Harry nodded and went back to his food. The entire situation sitting heavily on his stomach for reasons he didn't want to explore too deeply.


	11. Chapter 11

By Wednesday, Harry was no closer to accepting the newest changes in his life than before. It was difficult feeling as though he couldn't trust the things in his life he had counted on before. There were so many things he took for granted and now it seemed as though the rose colored glasses were gone and everything was harsh and unfamiliar.

The beauty of the Wizarding world had given way. Dumbledore's worries were well founded. Though Harry had to wonder if it had been a self fulfilling prophecy, as the elder wizard played a large role in Harry's loss of innocence. It wasn't all Voldemort and the Daily Prophet.

These were his thoughts when Professor Vector walked into the classroom late that afternoon instead of Leo. She wore her usual attire, long slinky and velvet, though this time her tall graceful figure was covered in a deep emerald. Around her narrow waist was a golden metal belt that only emphasized her shapely figure and as she slipped her teaching robes off to lay across a chair, he noted the sleeves of her gown belled at the wrists almost covering her hands. Wild curls were pinned atop her head and her eyes were still smoky and mysterious.

One thing he had noticed about the Professor, she wasn't caught up in the propaganda surrounding his reputation. She treated him much like a kid brother, asking if he was eating his meals, how his classes were coming along, was he resting properly. It was different from Mrs. Weasley, because he couldn't imagine, Ron's mother ruffling his hair or demanding he call Mrs. Weasley by her first name. And nothing like Hermione's protective nature either.

The first time she flicked his forehead because he forgot to call her by her first name, he sat in shock for at least ten minutes. It was such a careless gesture. Not even Ron or Hermione treated him that way, always staying a reserved distance away, though Hermione had eventually given over to those rib crushing hugs of hers. Harry could count on his hand the number of people who didn't treat him with awe, polite indifference, or out right hatred.

"Good Afternoon Harry, you're looking," she paused then gave him a thorough once over, "You're looking somewhat horrid actually? Is everything alright?"

"It's been a long few days," he admitted, though he it was always nice to see the Professor because she usually had a smile and some great new theory about magic to explore, he had been looking forward to the physical workout with Leo this class period.

As a result of his month of detentions, Leo was working him at an insane pace. The better to learn to control his temper, Harry was told, and so far he was doing a better job of thinking before speaking. Their lessons had become a study in the human body's capacity to endure.

After many intense grueling sessions, Harry had finally mastered how to throw a punch properly, as well as block the powerful blows Leo aimed in his direction. Incorporating his legs and feet in defensive as well as offensive moves hadn't been as easy to master, though Harry felt as though his muscles were finally remembering the proper movements. He was no where near Leo's level but confident enough that wouldn't have his arse completely handed to him in a physical fight.

Next week they would move on to throws, something Harry wasn't looking forward to. Leo said this aspect of fight was extremely important, that Harry needed to learn not only to fall properly but to force his body back to a standing position in a variety of different ways. Advanced agility training, Leo called it. Potter Arse-kicking and Torture part two, was Harry's stance.

As far as his spell work was concerned, Harry was comfortable with his thirteen chosen spells. They left him exhausted after long duels but he no longer had to think before casting them. Now they were working on silent casting and he could already cast two of his offensive spells and three of his defensive.

Strangely enough, Leo had been in favor of using the serpensortia spell as he planned to teach Harry how to use transfiguration techniques while dueling. He explained his reasoning by saying if Harry cast the snake summoning curse as a defensive measure, any of the reptiles could be transfigured into both inanimate and animate objects to use against an opponent. The parseltongue was also a nice bonus as any weapon in a fight was a good weapon as long as it couldn't be used against him. Since he and Voldemort were the only two known parselmouths, everyone else was fair game.

"Well, I think I've found a solution to your Occlumency difficulties." She set down the large box she was carrying on the table, removing the lid and then the contents. Next she unrolled several feet of parchment and grabbed a piece of chalk to start writing on the black board.

After his refusal to continue lessons with Snape, Dumbledore had approached Professor Vector for a less traditional approach to solving the issue of Voldemort and his nightmares. She had looked upon it as a challenge, her enthusiasm a much better response than Snape's nasty attitude. She had informed him on Monday of her quest and he was surprised she returned with an answer so soon.

He closed the journal Leo gave him, setting it on the table as well, and had to grin. "That's the best news I've had in days." He might not be able to wrap his mind around this Lord business but getting Voldemort out of his head was even better.

"I know we haven't had much time together Harry and I feel I must apologize for my absences. I've given you a great deal of research and information but I haven't spent much time helping you to understand it."

So far Leo had occupied most of the private instruction scheduled but he didn't mind, the physical work was more his forte anyway, though learning about the runes and rituals they were used for was interesting.

"You have classes, Professor Vector, I understand."

The second the words left his mouth, Harry grimaced at the mistake. She turned from her work with a sly smirk. Without a word, she reached over and flicked him in the forehead lightly making them both chuckle.

"I know it's a change," she began in a husky voice filled with amusement. "Calling your instructor by her first name but I like to believe we're working as peers here Harry. You're certainly attempting to accomplish something I never could be capable of. You're more than welcome to call me Septima, as I believe I've said before. I don't want to simply give you information; I want our time together to be a process of active learning, not only for yourself but for me as well."

"Alright," he agreed, though it would be difficult not to call her Professor, as every time he did, a voice that sounded very similar to Hermione seemed to screech in horror.

She set the chalk down and sat on the edge of the table, giving him her full attention. "First, however, is there anything I can help you with? As I said, you look troubled."

Harry found he wanted a fresh perspective, from someone who had not been involved in his life for the past five years. Blaise would have been preferable, as this had all started with a conversation with the Slytherin but Septima had been nothing but kind to him and had no real hidden agenda that he could see.

"I was wondering what you knew about Ancient and Noble Houses."

A perfectly arched brow lifted in response, "So, the Lord Potter is finally acknowledging his birthright?"

There was no mistaking the criticism in her voice and it made him cringe. "I didn't know," he murmured but even to his ears the excuse sounded feeble.

"What do you mean you didn't know? The Potters have been an integral part of the Wizarding world for centuries. Your family is apart of the original thirteen, did you think your importance to the Wizarding world was merely because of what happened to you all those years ago on Halloween?"

Actually, he had, with the Boy-who-lived rubbish he had to endure. She stared at him so long, he thought perhaps she would retract her offer of friendship she was so disgusted with him. What she said next was surprising.

"You truly didn't know, did you?" A slender hand began gesturing as she spoke, "All this time, you have had no idea. I feel as though I should apologize for having played even an unacknowledged role in this travesty."

"To be fair, I think everyone was like you." He shrugged lightly, "They believed that someone had already told me."

"I thought perhaps it was a phase you were going through, you know. Muggle teenaged rebellion, such rot." She explained her face a study of guilt. "Unfortunately, there isn't much I am able to tell you about Ancient and Noble Houses. I know a great deal about the Potter family's accomplishments however. Your family was critical in the passing of several laws regarding potion ingredients and the collection of them from magical creatures. Considering the close business ties the Potter and Davis families have, that's not surprising."

"Davis? As in Tracey Davis?"

"Why yes. Her family is the forerunner in that field." She paused and bit her lower lip, thinking. "There have also been two Ministers of magic from your family."

"Two?"

"Yes but that was many years ago. When several of the thirteen Houses started practicing dark magic and influencing the Wizengamot's laws concerning muggle-borns, the Potters began focusing on legislation and as a result became very influential voices in society."

"Why don' they teach this in History of Magic, instead of going on about goblin wars?"

"Frankly because this is common knowledge in most households. Its easy to forget the muggle-borns aren't raised with this knowledge, and so many of our traditions are lost as more are making their way into the Wizarding world. Then the pureblood families use this as an excuse to try to forbid their entry into our world but it was these same purebloods that make it so difficult for muggle-borns to gain access to this knowledge."

"It's a vicious circle."

"That it is, and even with half-bloods and other pure bloods that support muggle-borns, it's a struggle because pure bloods are usually among the wealthy and privileged in our world with the connections and resources to promote their agenda."

"My family helped prevent a lot of the prejudice against muggle-borns, didn't they?" He was beginning to understand why she had sounded so disappointed in him. But wasn't fighting Voldemort enough? How much more would he have to give to the Wizarding world?

Except that was a child's thinking, he realized with a heavy heart. Those who were born to power and influence had an obligation to those without. How could he look at Hermione again, when his very inaction could resort in some law being voted in to hurt her? As much as he wanted to shy away from the public attention, he was in a position to make changes.

"Is this a part of growing up?"

"Yes, Harry, it is. You've been dealt a grave disservice. But if you would allow me, I'd like to help you. After this war, and the Divine willing, there will be an after this war for us all, you will need to be prepared to take your place in our society to make a difference. In the meantime," she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and smiled, "Your Occlumency."

"Getting Voldemort out of my head," he nodded in agreement. "So what did you have in mind?

"Can you tell me the four perfect numbers and what each denotes?"

Numbers? He had been studying runes, how was he to know this and he hadn't studied Arithmancy? "I don't know."

"That's an easy answer. I want you to actually think about it before answering this time."

She looked at him with such expectation; he really didn't want to let her down. "Um, I think seven is one."

"That's a big one too Harry. Even muggles understand some of the power of the number seven, though it is often ignored as superstition. Can you think of another?"

"I don't," he stopped when a memory flickered briefly along the edges of his consciousness. It was very old, something that managed to remain there regardless of the years that had passed. Three, it's the magic number. Yes it is. The number three. A woman's voice sang the simple melody, probably his initial school years. The memory left a warm pleasant feeling in his stomach, one of few he had from early childhood at the Dursleys. At school he was safe for a while. He was Harry, not freak or boy.

"Three?" He offered tentatively.

"Very good. The other two are a bit more difficult for those who haven't studied numerology. The four perfect numbers in magic are three which denotes divine perfection, seven denoting spiritual perfection. Then there is ten, ordinal perfection and twelve for governmental perfection. Are you with me so far?"

"I think so."

"When I was searching through an Old Norse runes tome, looking for a ritual to help you, I kept running across the number three in its many different variations and forms. Now I'm not a seer but usually when something like that happens it's for a reason."

"And what did you come up with?"

"These attack you suffer, you're not just affected mentally, correct?"

Harry took a moment and thought about what she was asking, recalling the details from this last attack and how he felt afterwards. His body had ached for a long while, just as if the cruciatus curse Voldemort cast was on him and not the stupid Death Eater he eventually killed. The curse scar on his forehead had split open, covering him with blood. His magic had felt tainted. Dirty.

So he tried to explain all of these things to her and with each word she nodded eagerly, and smiled as if he were confirming something she had already figured out.

"Three is a very special number Harry. Not just in magical culture but in so many others across the world. Its roots stem from the meaning of multiplicity. Its creative power is growth. Three is a moving forward of energy, overcoming duality, expression, manifestation and synthesis. Three is the first number to which the meaning "all" was given. It is The Triad, being the number of the whole as it contains the beginning, a middle and an end."

"I think I understand all of that," which was something because this type of stuff was clearly in Hermione's domain. Maybe this is what Leo meant when he said he would have to learn to do things on his own. It was good to have Hermione there at his side, but there were times he would have to figure things out on his own. This definitely was one of them.

"So would you agree given everything you've told me, these invasions affect you mentally, physically as well as your spirit, if you believe your magic to be a connection to your spirit?"

"Yes." It certainly fit. That was three things right there.

"There is a symbol which represents this relationship." She turned stood lifting her chalk and drawing on the board. "Have you ever seen one of these before?"

"No. It looks like a three sided triangle."

"Good," her smile brightened. "For that's exactly what it is, really, an interlaced three-cornered shape. Triquetra. Each corner representing the body, the mind and the spirit."

"But what does this have to do with Occlumency."

"I want to perform a ritual from the old ways, Harry, using Norse runes and this triquetra as a foundation along with a healing spell to help prevent you know who from penetrating your mind. Each step is based in the number 3. Three runes, three healing herbs and the triquetra, denoting divine perfection in a ritual asking the Divine for protection."

"I'm lost now. I didn't know you followed the old ways." He had read those words in the Curious Half-blood, the old traditions of magic he had begun exploring. He didn't know any of the Professors of Hogwarts practiced them as well.

"I may be a half-blood but my parents still believe strongly in the old ways Harry. Thus my love for Ancient Runes. They are the building blocks to many of our rituals. Now with Norse runes there is a unique order of the fuþark, the Norse runic alphabet, and its traditional division into three 'aetts' or it's 'families' or 'groups. This is why I chose them."

"Three."

"Exactly. Now traditional Rune spells and rituals were cut into wood, bone or stone to create a talisman. In your case, that wouldn't be very effective."

"You want to cut the runes into me?" At his whispered guess, her expression grew stilled and serious. "Wouldn't that be considered blood magic? Dark magic?"

"This wouldn't be considered blood magic as the blood involved is negligible. There is just enough blood to tie your magic into the runes themselves. But you should know, not all blood magic is Dark, Harry. There are many old rituals and spells whose roots start with blood."

'Blood of the enemy.' Unfortunately, all he could hear were Wormtail's words in the graveyard. Images of Cedric dead, with him bound to a crypt and that disgusting thing Voldemort had been before his rebirth flickered before his eyes.

"Harry. Harry, can you hear me?"

He jerked violently when hands closed gently on his arms, forcing his mind back into the present. He was shaking and hadn't even noticed.

"I won't-"

"Harry look at me." She insisted.

"No, no I won't."

"Harry!" She shook him hard, and his eyes jerked up to meet her intense ones. "Harry do you trust me not to hurt you."

He wanted to laugh at that. Trust? Trust, when at one point or other everyone he trusted either betrayed him or let him down. Trust was a rare commodity for Harry Potter.

"No I suppose not," she sighed and he thought he heard sadness there but was still too caught up in old memories to focus clearly. Septima released his arms and took three steps backward before raising her arm. He was rolling off his chair to the floor backing away before she could speak.

She moved faster than he expected, kneeling down before him and grasping his hand tightly in her own. At the first tap of her wand against their joined hands, a thin ribbon of red flame flowed from her wand and wrapped around their hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I Septima Helena Vector, do hereby swear upon my life and my magic, no maliciously intended harm shall come from my person to Harry Potter" A red flash of light, confirming the vow, swirled around them, then their hands before sealing into their skin. "I swear upon my life and magic to do everything within my power to help him succeed in his quest to rid the Wizarding world of Voldemort." She almost choked on the name but it halted the wild panic swirling in his chest. Another band of magic sealed her words. "I swear upon my life and magic to keep the things Harry Potter tells me in confidence until the time he gives me permission to speak of it to others."

The thrice born vow flashed brightly, building in power. "My intent I declare before the Divine, let me be judged rightfully if my fidelity is broken. Upon my life, upon my magic, as I will it, so mote it be." The waves of magic burned crimson then a bright golden to pure white before dividing and slipping into both their chests.

Just as quickly the moment was over and she stood pulling him carefully to his feet as well.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"To prove I can be trusted," she smiled softly before taking the same hand that had gripped his so strongly during the vow and caressing his cheek softly. "For truly what harm shall be done if I prove to be honorable. What have I promised, Harry? To never hurt you intentionally, for if we perform this ritual there will be some pain involved but I won't enjoy your pain. To help you fight Voldemort? I do that each time we meet and I'll continue to do so until you no longer need my help. And to keep your confidence? Is that really so difficult a thing to do?"

"But you swore on your life! On your magic! I know what happens when those kinds of vows are broken!"

"If it helps you to trust me Harry, then it's worth it. You're worth it Harry."

He took a deep breath, so far this school year the steps he had taken out on faith had brought more good than ill. So if Septima was willing to make an Unbreakable Vow then he was willing to step out one more time.

"What do we have to do for the ritual?"

 

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"Now are you ready?"

Harry kneeled in the center of a circle grounded with salt with the purest of white candles inside the circle; one to the north of him, one to the south, the east and west each lit with bluebell flames. "Ready as I'll ever be," he tried for a smile but was too full of nerves. They had gone over the information until he understood all of it and the ritual itself several times before she suggested they begin.

Septima had asked him to remove the t-shirt he wore as well as his socks and trainers and he was feeling exposed with his chest bared and the different scars he had gained over the years showing. He glanced again at the diagram of the triquetra on the chalkboard they would be using during the ritual. Within each section of the triquetra a rune would be inscribed with a circle flowing through the loops to unify the runes. It wasn't very complex, to which she had replied sometimes the simple things were the best.

"Now, you remember the runes we chose for you?"

"Representing the mind, we decided on purisaz of the first aett, its divinatory purpose is for discipline, knowledge, introspection, focus. Its magical purposes is to aid in study and meditation and self-discipline. It is to help me understand that there will be obstacles placed in my path but they are to strengthen and teach me."

"Good," she nodded, stirring in large pewter bowl. She poured the thick mixture into a smaller golden bowl and passed it to him inside the circle. He placed the bowl on the floor in front of him. "And for the body?"

"Algiz of the second aett. It is a protection rune. And for Spirit, laguz from the third aett."

"Yes, the water rune. And what's so significant about this one?"

"Its divination purposes are discipline, knowledge, introspection, focus and magical properties are enhancing psychic abilities, confronting fears, stabilizing mental or emotional disorders. I still think we should go with some of the other runes like teiwaz, for the warrior path. These seem a little, I don't know."

"What not manly enough for you Harry? You thought we were going to cover you with runes that would make you big and strong" Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, warm and rich, and completely at his expense. "Our purpose is not for attack here. We're trying to defend your mind. To protect and fortify it against violation. You'll have plenty of opportunity to discover rune ceremonies for warriors. Small steps, Harry."

Alright, so when she put it that way it did sound like he was getting ahead of himself. He could always learn more like she said. This type of magic could be a big advantage when fighting Voldemort.

"For ink to draw the runes, we'll be using a mixture of arnica for the body, fluxweed for the mind and rose petals for the spirit crushed in witch hazel extract and rosehips oil. Now you're sure you understand everything?"

"I'm ready whenever you are."

Septima nodded once, moving toward the circle, wand in hand. She took a deep breath, raising her hands and Harry could feel the air around him grow warm with magic. It was rich and seductive filling him with a heady excitement that bordered on arousal. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath and could almost smell fire building. In his mind the image of Blaise shone unsteadily, before fading as he was reminded so strongly of the Slytherin. Unsettled his eyes opened. Then the circle of salt around him caught flame.

"What was that?"

A flash of humor crossed her face, her laughter low and throaty. "Oh Lord Potter, the things you have to learn. It shall be a joy to teach you. That is my magic and it seems yours compliments it well. I would say you resonate with air as my magic is of fire."

"Oh," he didn't follow but knew she would tell him more. And hopefully he would understand why it brought Blaise Zabini to his mind.

"Now be silent so I may finish." Again she took a breath before beginning the chant. "An endless circle and eternal knot, the circle of life, the path that comes back to its own beginning. Divine, we beseech you."

A thin trail of the mixture flowed upward from the bowl into the air and Harry bowed low to the floor knowing the path it would seek. Septima would direct the dark red ink to the back of his neck where the runic pattern would be literally tattooed into his skin. As the formation of the triquetra began, it burned like the fire ignited around him, so much that he had to bite his lip to hold back the gasp of pain.

"Wings of healing, wise and strong. Home to his mind, Protection he seeks." This would begin the rune for his mind. He could feel his magic stirring, tying itself into the patterns being drawn on his skin.

"Flame of Healing, nourishing his temple. Power his belonging, make him strong."

This time the fiery streak of pain brought a choked cry forth from his lips before he could stop it. His hands gripped at his pant legs remaining as still as possible so that as the rune for his body could finish.

"Waves of Healing, home to truth. Cradle him to silence, purify his spirit."

The next part would be the most difficult. Harry dragged in a deep breath feeling her magic and his crest in the air around them. It felt wild and hungry. Joyful and insistent. It was beautiful despite its pain.

"Rhythm of his heartbeat, still his pain. Home to his bones, make him whole again." And he could feel each agonizing inch of the circle unifying the magic of the rituals. "Endless light of the Divine, grant this boon. Heal his mind. Heal his body. Heal his soul. As we will it, so mote it be."

 

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Septima would tell him later it was the most powerful ritual she had ever witnessed. His magic had literally risen up in a whirlwind of energy jerking him from his knees to hover several inches in the air. His eyes had shone a brilliant emerald as he screamed, magic sparking and dancing around him. Then it slammed back into his body rendering him unconscious until long after the dinner hour.

"I had Professor Dumbledore excuse your detention for the night," she told him as she watched him pull his t-shirt over his head. "You won't have to make it up; I explained what we were doing here and how it affected your magic. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good." And he did, though he had been expecting to feel drained instead of so rejuvenated. Pain lingered in the markings on the back of his neck but he couldn't wait to rush back to the dorms to see how it looked. "I think it worked, Septima. My mind feels so clear."

"What about the connection?"

"I can tell it's still there but it's more like knowing my heart beats or the blood flows through my veins. Do you see what I mean?"

"We'll have to see how it affects your magic tomorrow in class but for tonight, I'll have one of the house elves bring you something to eat from the kitchen and I want you to go straight back to the Gryffindor dorms to get some rest Harry. You probably feel amazing right now, that's the excess magic from the ritual. I don't want you to push yourself too hard."

"Alright Septima, good night."


	12. Chapter 12

Something was different about Harry today.

Neville didn't quite understand what had changed but if the smile on his face was any indication, it was a good change this time. Over the past weeks, he noticed several changes in Harry. At first, Neville thought it was because of his godfather's death last spring in the Department of Mysteries. Sometimes, when he looked at Harry, he could still hear that strangled cry the other had given as Sirius fell through the veil. It was the worst sound he had ever heard, like Harry's entire heart had broken and would never mend again.

They were similar that way, he and Harry. Each knew the depths of grief most of their friends could never comprehend. How could they? They had never lost a parent, the person who was the most essential person in a child's life. While he had his grandmother, she could never replace the parents who were trapped within themselves in St. Mungo's. He would forever be without a mother's arms, his father's regard and Harry knew what that felt like. Luna knew.

So after watching Sirius fall, he couldn't imagine Harry's heartache. Couldn't imagine losing his Gran, no matter how strict she was at times, or how she always compared him to his father. So he thought the changes in Harry were based in grief. Perhaps they were in the beginning. He returned to school with a cold edge that seemed to further separate Harry from the rest of their year mates.

They all knew Harry's home life wasn't best, especially when he returned to school looking ten pounds lighter and usually with dark circles under his eyes. No one mentioned the barely eaten meals or the broken glasses with taped frames or even the second hand clothes that were several sizes too big.

It had all become apart of Harry's identity.

When classes started, a light had brightened in Harry's eyes. A determination. It was still cold edged and at times intimidating because Neville knew Harry had focused all of his energy into defeating Voldemort. At some point during the summer, Harry had turned inward and made the leap from child to adult while everyone else was still enjoying adolescence.

Hermione and Ron had no clue, or they preferred to pretend they hadn't noticed the changes in their best friend. Mostly, Neville thought it because they were too wrapped up in themselves and their new relationship to give Harry much thought. Oh, Ron still tried to talk him into playing chess or exploding snap, or discuss the latest quidditch news and Hermione still hovered and nagged about school work. Even Ginny it seemed was trying to etch out her place in Harry's life.

Harry was barely giving them a passing glance. Whereas before Harry might have put off doing his work to hang out with Ron, this year he focused on his studies. Especially the ones that had him up every morning at six exercising and watching what he ate and taking strange vials of potions. Hermione didn't have much to complain about, so she had taken to studying Harry as though he were a difficult book she needed to interpret.

No one else understood what Harry was doing but Neville had figured it out the night he came down in those 'muggle exercise clothes' looking better than he had in a very long time. Harry was training. Honing himself into the weapon he needed to become to defeat Voldemort. Preparing for War.

"Morning, Neville."

Harry slipped into the chair next to him in the Great Hall, freshly dressed in a clean and pressed uniform barely a minute after him. He had obviously tried to tame the lion's mane of hair of his but it was already rebelling in a few different directions. It was the first time they arrived at breakfast at the same time and after yesterday's altercation with Ron, Neville had thought perhaps Harry would be arriving alone.

"Morning Harry, you're looking well." And he did. Harry's magic was practically shimmering around him.

"I feel great actually. No nightmares. A great workout. Never felt better." He grinned as he settled into his seat. "Hey Neville, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I was wondering, since, well I've seen you and I think you're the only Gryffindor who does. I thought maybe you and I could-"

"Perform morning blessing together?" He filled in for his rambling friend. He had hoped Harry would ask. It wasn't that he was ashamed of following the old ways but there were so many instances when the Gryffindors would look at him askance when he said the morning blessing that he had begun practicing silently.

"Yeah," this smile was shades of the old Harry. Shy, a little hesitant even. It was good to know the boy Neville met years ago for the first time was still inside the man. "I didn't know your family practiced the old traditions. I'm not saying that you didn't, I just meant I hadn't even heard of the old ways until Tracey gave me the book, so even if I had noticed you performing the morning blessing I wouldn't have known what it was."

"But Harry, the Potters-"

"I know," he interrupted; the anger in Harry's voice was palpable. "I've heard a great deal about the Potters over the last couple of days, Neville. Things I had never heard before. It really bites that so many people are aware of my family while I sit here the clueless Gryffindor people want me to be. I had to send a letter to Gringotts to even confirm what I finally discovered because I can't seem to trust the people in authority here to tell me the things I need to know."

"If you like, I could help you a little with that?" Neville hesitated, measuring Harry's reaction for a moment, before adding in a stronger voice, "The Ancient and Noble house of Longbottom would be honored if you would accept our assistance."

It was a proposal set forth in the traditional sense and Neville saw from the light in Harry's eyes that he understood. "The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter would gladly accept your aid. Neville, I don't know if I ever thanked you for what you did for me that morning after my nightmare."

"It's alright Harry, I didn't"

"But you did," Harry interrupted, "And I appreciate it. I do. So, thank you Neville."

"You're welcome."

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Things were better between him and Ron with the secret of Hermione's party out in the open. Now that it was finally the day, Harry was starting to get a little nervous. Hermione was certain to wonder where he had found the information regarding the Coming of Age ceremony. He wasn't sure he could contrive a believable lie because he still wasn't ready to give over his secret of the book from Tracey. Hopefully she would be too busy enjoying the remainder of the party to corner him for a question and answer session.

The two arrived shortly after he and Neville completed their blessings, a good thing, for he didn't want to get into another argument with Ron about how he was changing. Probably for the worst in the redhead's opinion.

"Happy Birthday, 'Mione," he smiled as they sat down across from him in their usual seats. Ron looked a bit self-satisfied while Hermione's face was flushed a pretty rose telling him there had been some birthday snogging going on before they arrived at the Great Hall.

"Thank you Harry. I'm so excited about the party tonight. Are you certain Professor Dumbledore gave permission for us to use the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes," Harry sighed for perhaps the tenth time. Hermione had been making sure they wouldn't get in trouble for the party since she had discovered it. "You just make sure to wear a pretty dress and show up at seven."

"I'll make sure she gets there on time," Ron confirmed, getting into the spirit of the party now that he knew harry wouldn't tell how he had argued against the party in the beginning.

"Harry are you always going to head down without us now?"

"It just isn't right," Ron added, more focused on the food he was placing in front of him than the actual conversation. The two seemed to argue for his presence more for the habit of than truly wanting him around. He didn't mind, it had been like that since the two of them became something more than friends. This simply gave the two more time alone together.

"I'm not doing it to hurt your feelings. It's just the way things are now."

"You didn't even ask if we wanted to train with you in the mornings. I know you want to wait to restart the DA and we can't take your classes during the day with you but in this we could join you."

"I'm not purposely excluding you 'Mione. If you want to get up at six and join my morning run, you're welcome to join me."

"Six! You're insane Mate." Ron's reaction was typical for someone who was sometimes the last one out of bed. There was no way Ron would ever get up so early for anything except for perhaps Quidditch. "No thanks. I don't get the point of running around anyway."

"It's good cardiovascular conditioning," Hermione explained the health benefits that Ron wasn't paying attention to. As her parents were doctors he knew she would be familiar with the purpose of exercise.

To be honest, he enjoyed running alone and didn't want the company. During his runs he was able to think through homework problems or work through anger he didn't want to carry around for the rest of the day. He didn't want to mar the experience by having to act a certain way because of his best friends.

The morning owls flew in with a great flurry of wing and feather as he was finishing his milk. Most dropped off the day's edition of the Daily Prophet before returning to their origins. An elegant brown eagle owl flew toward him and Harry lifted his arm allowing the bird to settle gracefully.

"Aren't you handsome," he murmured and it preened under the compliment, ruffling speckled feathers. The owl extended its clawed foot so Harry could detach the crisp folded parchment it carried.

"Do you require a response?" He asked after feeding the bird a piece of bacon from his plate. The owl finished its treat, alighting from his arm to settle comfortably on the back of his chair. "I guess that's a yes."

"Who is that from?" Ron gestured to the letter in his hand. "Looks like the Gringotts seal."

"It is," Harry mused, turning the letter over in his hands, trying to settle his racing heart and appear calm so his friends wouldn't suspect something was wrong.

"Well, aren't you going to read it?"

Ron had no idea why he was hesitating. No idea this letter had the ability to change his life irrevocably. He wanted to open it, to know his family and the heritage he had been without for sixteen years. Yet he was terrified of what he would find. If he was even capable of living up to the expectations that would surely come, on top of the prophecy connecting him to Voldemort.

Was he prepared for this? Since coming to Hogwarts responsibilities had been trust upon him, one after the other. Was he ready for more?

"It will be alright Harry." Neville placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and it helped to know he had someone who would be there and could understand. Someone who not confuse this with their own personal issues.

He pried the seal open and began reading the document, his hands gripping the parchment tightly. With each word, each confirmation he felt a knot twist then untangle deep in his chest.

Yes, he was the head of the Potter family and his assets had been in trust under a steward, Seymour Colfax, arranged by his father, James Philip Potter, more than twenty years ago. His father's parents, Philip Alexander Potter and Margaret Maeve Potter, nee Roarke, had passed during James' sixth year of attendance at Hogwarts and he was forced to instill a trustee until he finished school. Unfortunately his graduation came at the height of the war and the steward remained in place with strict appraisal by Gringotts each quarter.

The inheritance department of Gringotts had been waiting for him to contact them after his sixteenth birthday. There were several documents that needed his signature and items that were placed with the goblins by his parents for him to claim, including the Potter ring which was added later after his father's death. He was also expected to arrange future financial arrangements concerning the Potter estate.

A meeting on Sunday afternoon at one was suggested to give Gringotts time to contact both the steward of the Potter estate for his required attendance as well to notify Gringott's Ireland branch that the Roarke scion needed an accounting of his assets. He knew this came from his grandmother's family but had no idea the Roarke house originated in Ireland.

Also, as the reading of the will of Sirius Black had taken place earlier during the summer, he would need to sign for the inheritance left by his godfather. This last part infuriated him because he had no idea Sirius even had a will. The only person who could keep such knowledge from him was Dumbledore.

'Another burden,' he sneered inwardly, remembering the Headmaster's excuse for not telling him anything, about his family, about the prophecy and now this probably applied to Sirius as well.

"So?"

He looked up at Ron's question wondering how he would explain this latest piece of information without alienating his friend further. The year had started off on shaky terms for them when Harry has simply rode the train back to school with Blaise, Tracey and Daphne. Followed by being ignored by Ron and Hermione because they were so caught up in dating that a third wheel was barely noticed. To complicate matters, Ron still held on to his old jealousies, beginning with labeling him a Malfoy copy and finally boiling over because of a simple party for Hermione.

"Just something about Sirius," he replied in a low voice so no one would overhear. "They're sending someone over on Sunday so I can sign some papers."

The confusion on Neville's face told Harry he could clearly see the salutation of the letter was to Harrigan James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and had very little to do with Sirius. A slight shake of his head seemed to help Neville understand he wasn't sharing this information with his best friends yet.

"I thought Sirius was disinherited, Harry," Hermione leaned over to whisper, "Isn't that what you told us?"

"Yes, but I don't think his family had a chance to go through the proper legal channels to finish it."

"I'm sorry. I know you don't like to talk about him but Harry in order to grieve properly you can't hold those feelings inside. You need to talk to us Harry, we're your friends, we're there for you, you know."

"I'm fine 'Mione and I appreciate what you're trying to do." He did, though the concern was too little too late. The worst of his grieving took place during his isolated summer. His godfather was gone and nothing but time would make the pain lessen. He wasn't going to bare his pain for them so they could feel he was moving on properly and to their expectations.

"What about Quidditch practice?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

"Practice?"

"Yes, uh, Professor McGonagall told us at dinner yesterday the team should hold tryouts for the new spots. Told us your Quidditch ban was lifted too, so you can take your spot as seeker again. Ginny agreed to try for a chaser position so you don't have to worry about her being angry. Katie was named captain." Ron paused in his ramble of information remembering suddenly, "That's right you missed dinner last night, where were you?"

"Taking care of some things with Septima," he frowned down at the papers in his hands. There were more important things going on right now and he didn't have time for Quidditch no matter how much he enjoyed playing.

"Harry! Professor Vector is a respected member of Hogwarts staff."

"Who has repeatedly told me to call her Septima," he finished for her. "Look, it's strange even to me but if that's what she wants, isn't it more disrespectful to ignore her wishes?"

"I suppose," she trailed off clearly not liking him addressing an authority figure with such familiarity.

"Besides, Ron, I don't know if I can practice, you know I have detention this month. I'll speak to Professor McGonagall later to see what she says." And to get his broom back as well.

"What things were you taking care of?" Hermione spoke up, a quirked eyebrow clearly wanting answers. "Did it have anything to do with that magical surge we all felt last evening?"

"Something like that," he hedged, knowing if he didn't give her some information she would keep digging until she uncovered all his secrets. That he really wasn't ready for. "I don't know if Septima wants me to talk about it yet before I speak to Dumbledore. So I can't tell you much but it was about my Occlumency instruction. Or rather finding away around it."

He wanted to rub a hand across the runes but didn't dare draw attention to it. It was mostly concealed beneath the collar of his shirt and the last thing he needed was a Death Eater in training to send the information back to Voldemort about strange markings on the back of Harry Potter's neck.

It was amazing how clear he felt today, as if something had been restricting not only his mind but his magic as well. While he was running, the breeze had danced across his skin, like he usually felt when he was riding his Firebolt at full speed with all caution forgotten. He could feel his magic simmering, mostly deep in his belly, just before it would wash through his body leaving him warm and just at the edge of pleasure. He couldn't wait until after Charms to speak with Septima and ask if she knew this might be a product of the ritual.

"After you speak to Professor Dumbledore then." Hermione relented but only to make sure he knew she would want answers later.

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"Professor, you wished to see me?"

The Headmaster smiled upon his entrance, looking much as usual dressed in his flamboyant robes of bright purple with golden snitches racing across the surface. At first he thought it only one until four met on his right shoulder circling each other before moving on.

"Ah, yes, Harry. I did. Please, have a seat."

"Sir, I have class this morning in ten minutes." He wasn't sure he was ready to have an in-depth conversation with Dumbledore but it seemed his wishes were to be denied yet again.

"I'm sure Professor Flitwick won't mind if I borrow his student for a few minutes. You have a double period this morning if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, sir." The man practically wrote his schedule, he should know exactly which courses he had this morning and how long it would last.

"We'll get you back in plenty of time then." Dumbledore waved to the chair across from him and Harry lowered himself to sit as it would be rude to protest more. "So, Professor Vector tells me the two of you found a solution to your Occlumency difficulties?"

"Yes, sir." He knew what the man wanted to know. After the conversation he had with Ron and Hermione, the entire castle was aware something happened last night that involved a lot of magic. Only a select few knew he was right in the midst of it. Dumbledore was one of them.

He couldn't understand why the man never simply asked direct questions for the information he wanted to know. Why play so many word games?

Dumbledore's facial expressions went through a variety of changes before settling for a small smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. If Harry didn't know better, he would swear the man had tried using Legilimency on him. Dumbledore wouldn't sink to such a level, would he?

If so, he would be sorely disappointed. Nothing was getting inside his head. He still felt the connection to Voldemort but the days of using mental magics to penetrate his mind were over. Septima's ritual was very effective.

"Should I presume your efforts were successful?"

"Yes."

It was fun keeping his answers to one or two word phrases, and he would continue to do so until Dumbledore stopped playing games with him.

"The surge of magic in the castle and your absence were noted by several students."

"Septima said she explained yesterday to you why I missed dinner and the aspects of the ritual we used."

"Professor Vector, Harry," Dumbledore remonstrated lightly. It wasn't worth it to argue that she had given him permission to address her otherwise.

"Yes, the surge of magic and my absence were connected to the ritual."

"And you believe carving runes into your body and using old magic that you aren't familiar with was the only way to achieve your aims?"

Hadn't the man expected Harry to trust the old magic protections his mother's death gave him to keep Voldemort and his Death Eaters away from Privet Drive? He couldn't have it both ways, advocating one branch of old magic and scorning another, especially when they were so closely related.

"I trust her and it's better than Professor Snape torturing me."

"I know you believe-"

"You trust him, I understand that now. That's fine and your choice. But I think you're aware he hates me. He hated my father, Sirius, and he takes that hatred out on me as well."

"There are reasons you are unaware of for Severus' anger Harry," his voice though resigned was filled with a silent entreaty for tolerance.

Harry would never reveal what he had seen in Snape's pensive but he knew the Marauders were horrid to Snape during the years they attended Hogwarts. Sirius' poor defense of them being kids didn't justify their behavior. It didn't excuse Snape either, for Harry had never known James Potter. So avenging himself on a dead man's son was daft.

"I also admit I didn't study Occlumency as well as I should have and the reason for Snape's refusal to instruct me further is my fault as well. But I was a fifteen year old who had Voldemort in his head, was being lied to by people I trusted and tortured by one of my instructors." He wasn't trying to deny his culpability but this was more than Snape was willing to admit to.

"Professor Snape is an adult who is in a position of authority over me and regularly takes advantage of that fact, regardless of who is around. He belittles me, degrades the memory of my father, especially when no one is around. You tell me who is truly at fault."

Judging from Dumbledore's expression, he realized there was truth to his words. "Professor Snape is a complicated man."

"Professor Snape is a bitter man and much of it is warranted. But he hated me on sight without even knowing anything about me other than I look like my father. You can stop trying to explain Professor Snape to me because I really don't care about him or his difficult life, or his complications. He doesn't care about me either. I don't have the luxury of being benevolent as you are."

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, folding his hands atop his desk. The customary twinkle in his eyes was diminished. A small frown played around the edges of his mouth. His demeanor of kindly grandfather figure was diminished. He was the epitome of the disappointed mentor. The illusion failed to impress Harry this time.

"Have things truly degenerated between us so, Harry? I know I have wronged you but is there no trust left?"

"I trust you sir." Dumbledore's face brightened at the admission but he probably should have waited until Harry completed his thought. "I trust that you wish the best for the Wizarding world and that you want Voldemort stopped."

"And for you Harry? Surely you know that I care for you as well."

"Yes, I know." In his way and as much as Dumbledore allowed himself to care for the person he was willing to sacrifice to win a war.

"Somehow I don't believe we are speaking of the same things."

"Probably not, Professor. If that's all, I really should get to class."

"Actually, I was hoping you wouldn't' be averse to accompanying me to a gathering this Sunday evening."

The Headmaster was inviting him to an Order meeting? Why?

"I said last year that I wouldn't keep things from you. I believe the best way to keep this promise is for your involvement with the war efforts to increase."

Did Harry truly want this? The Order was the only organization actively resisting Voldemort's efforts to take over the Wizarding world. They would have information he couldn't glean from the Prophet and he wouldn't' have to guess about what was going on. The Ministry would be just as ineffective as before as long as Fudge was in office and postured for the press and voters to save face for his actions last year.

"You wouldn't become an active member until you come of age but I believe it essential not only for you to be present but for the others to become accustomed to your attendance as you are the most vital factor to our war efforts."

"I have a meeting with a representative from Gringotts Sunday afternoon at one o'clock but we should be finished before dinner. Will that conflict with the meeting?"

"Mrs. Weasley is fond of ensuring our attendees are well fed. Instead of dining in the Great Hall, we will head over then so you may be introduced in a less formal atmosphere.

He made a valiant attempt to conceal it but Harry could see Dumbledore's displeasure at the goblins coming to Hogwarts.

"That's fine."

"Good. I will speak with you again on Sunday. You should come to my office after the start of dinner hour. You may go to class now, Harry. Oh, and I hope Ms. Granger has a pleasant birthday."

"I will pass along your well wishes, sir."


End file.
